Will of the Wisp
by PossumSoul
Summary: (Pre-Caskett total AU) A job. That's all it was supposed to be. Something to pass the time and help pay the bills. Waitressing at The Old Haunt, a nice quiet bar, seemed easy enough, at least until enrollment at the Academy started. She wasn't supposed to meet anyone that special. Why did she have to meet him?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is the story I told the readers of Loving and Losing about. Just posting this first chapter, seeing the reaction I get, and then deciding on whether or not to continue._

 _I have a few ideas on where to take this story. But I'm not feeling too pulled to finish it. So, if I get a really negative, or if I find out I'm blatantly copying a prompt that has been done before, I'll probably delete it. So, let me know. Might raise the rating to M sometime in the future, especially with the setting of this story and everything. Not sure yet, need more feedback. The ages and some of the dates have been changed to help facilitate the setting, of course. I'll reveal more if I decide to continue.  
_

 _So, read and let me hear your thoughts. :)_

* * *

The heat's out again. Why is the heat always out?

It's all the burrowing she can do to try to escape the sting of winter outside. The windows of their apartment raddle, the panes lose and wobbly in the frames against the wind. Like a warning to burrow even deeper into the covers and curl up even tighter against the wind as it cuts almost effortlessly into her room. It seems colder than it was last year. But last year also felt colder than it was the year before that. It's always the coldest year they've ever had here in New York. A never-ending cycle of misery and complaining that serves little purpose other than to help her cope with the seasons.

Her head turns against her pillow, which she wishes she hadn't turned over a few minutes ago to try and make herself more comfortable. The other side was warmer, at least. Usually, it's this kind of icy-cold winter morning that would help her sleep in, but not this morning. All it's doing this morning is keeping her awake and making it uncomfortable to stay in bed, but also reminds her that it's less comfortable out of bed at the same time.

Her eyes open, her vision fuzzed slightly by the down-comforter pulled against her face. It's just a little after seven. Her roommate should be out of the apartment by now, if not up and about getting ready to head out. One of the benefits of having a roommate in medical school, she's almost never here. So as long as she keeps up her half of the bills and doesn't touch anything labeled as hers in the fridge, she doesn't really have to worry about making friends. She doesn't even know if she would bother if the opportunity arose. Doesn't see much of the point. It would be nothing else but empty platitudes, feigned niceties, and swallowed annoyance being kept under her tongue to keep the sea levels steady.

She's not falling back asleep anytime soon. Nothing much else to do right now but read anyway. Ever since she finished up her last few credits needed for her degree and took an early graduation at the end of fall semester, she's been bored. Open enrollment doesn't even start back up until the summer. On top of that, since she's no longer a student, her job on campus was no longer an option. She had enough saved to keep the bills at bay for a while, but now her reserves have run out and she needs a new source of income.

But she's feeling drained. Exhausted even though she's been slacking on exercising lately. The back of her mind keeps poking at her, telling her why. But admitting it would mean admitting it's a problem. She just needs to get out of bed and everything will be fine.

But it's too cold with the heat broken, plus there's no real point in looking through the job listings this early. Most places don't accept applications before nine anyway.

So she pushes out a sigh, topped with a roll of her eyes to herself as she reaches out of the covers and grabs the spine of the book lying next to her alarm clock. She pulls it off her nightstand with a loose grip, but the gas bill/ bookmark falls out and onto the floor. "Son of a-" She hisses to herself.

That's a great start to the day, Kate.

She rolls herself over the edge of the bed and picks up the gas bill, slamming it back down to the nightstand in frustration. If her memory is right, she was in the 140's, probably page 146 or 147. Somewhere in the middle anyway. She rolls onto her back, readjusts the covers tighter over her and burrows herself into their familiar warmth again and cracks open the book. With little effort, she finds her page, just one page before the next chapter.

It's not one of his best. Not nearly as good as Flowers for Your Grave. But still, the familiar use of wordplay and vocabulary found a particular place in her interests. She's thinking of just giving up on this one and going back to In a Hail of Bullets. That was a great book. But 150 pages in, she feels too invested into these evil wickens to give up on them now. She can't help but have faith in the author that he'll somehow bring it to a good end. Or at least a happy one. All his endings are happy. Or ends in the villain getting caught, exposed, made to pay for their crimes and the harm they've caused people.

She reads for another hour and doesn't hear movement outside her bedroom until she finishes another chapter. Her roommate must have a late start today, or maybe even the day off. After placing the gas bill back between the pages of her book, forcing it into the spine a little harder to ensure it stays there, she flips the covers off and stretches out her lazy and tired muscles until her feet stretch out onto the floor. Luckily, she can't feel the cold of the floor over her two pairs of socks.

She rustles out her shoulder-length hair as she stands up. She makes her way around her bed to her dresser, grabbing a band off the top and putting her shoulder length hair back into a low ponytail, leaving a pair of bangs to frame her face. Her long, grey, thick sweatpants slide against the floor as she opens her door, making it almost a point to keep her eyes faced down to avoid eye contact with her roommate, who she can hear is in the kitchen.

She goes to the end of the hall and into the bathroom, staying locked behind the door for far longer than she normally needs to. She stays in the shower just a little longer than she needs to, she brushes her teeth just a little harder and uses more strokes than she normally does, dries and brushes her hair out longer than she needs to, spends more time applying the very light touch of make-up she uses than normal. But the entire process only takes a little over a half an hour.

She then makes it quick to head back into her bedroom to get dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a longsleeved black t-shirt and dark purple polo shirt that almost blends in with the black of the longsleeved t-shirt. With another two pairs of socks on her feet and her hair returned to the low hanging ponytail, she heads out into the kitchenette, hearing her roommate sitting on the couch watching TV, the morning news probably. "Morning." Her roommate says over a mouthful of cereal.

Nonetheless, despite herself not wanting to really make friends, Kate smiles. Her roommate is plenty nice enough, even funny at times. "Morning, Lanie," Kate says from the fridge, opening it and pulling out an orange and a paring knife to aid peeling it.

Kate moves over to where the dining table is near the door and sits down, pulling over the day-old newspaper. Might as well start looking through want-ads now, even if they are a day old. "Heat's still broken." Lanie says.

Kate looks over with a small, placating smile. "Yeah, the super is supposed to be looking into it." She says, flipping open the paper.

"Do you have a copy of the lease?" Lanie asks, standing up from the corner of the couch with her bowl. Kate looks over with a raised brow, silently asking her why. "I can't remember if we're allowed space heaters or not."

Kate shakes her head, being honestly frustrated with their landlord's stupid rules. "No, we're not." Kate looks back down to the paper with a roll of her eyes and begins to cut open the peel of her orange. "Trust me, if we were, we wouldn't be able to see our breath."

Lanie chuckles softly and goes over to the sink. "Well, I'm headed to my residency." Lanie says over the sink as she rinses out her bowl.

Kate smiles again, nodding her head as Lanie moves to the closet next to the front door and pulls out a large winter coat. "Bye." Kate says, almost under her breath as the door opens and shuts a few seconds later with her roommate rushing out the door. Kate lets out a relaxing sigh, finally letting herself be at ease now that she's alone in her apartment. She pops the first orange slice in her mouth and glances at the listings opened up in front of her.

After grimacing at biting down into a seed, she quickly starts looking over the list. Slaughtering pigs for minimum wage, secretary, grocery delivery, modeling scam, part-time clean-up at the Garden. She sighs at finding nothing as she puts another orange slice in her mouth. She didn't really expect to find much on her first try, much less with a day old newspaper. But when she goes to the next column, her eyes catch something.

Hiring immediately, twenty-one plus, waitress experience a plus but not required, interviewing applicants any time after eight. This might be worth looking into. Twenty-one plus is probably a bar or club. It wouldn't be her first choice, especially not a club. Having to shake her ass and wear some low-cut blouse that can only be buttoned up halfway over a cheap pushup bra, all to get some drunken frat-boys who are getting drunk off lite beer to tip her with singles asking for her number written in sharpie... not nearly her first choice.

But she knows this part of town. Not the club scene. And the name doesn't sound like you could hear a thumping base from the street. The name paints it as a hole-in-the-wall bar, catering to lonely drunks just looking to find the answers to the world's problems at the bottom of a glass, or bottle. Whichever comes first.

And she knows those kinds of people all... all too well.

She commits the address and the name of the bar to memory and goes to change into a pair of black slacks, black tennis shoes, a white blouse and grabs a long coat from the closet. She grabs a few papers stacked up on her desk in her bedroom and staples them together, putting them in a manilla envelope and heads out. She steps out onto the sidewalk and her face automatically scrunches together against the cold wind cutting through the street, wafting cold flakes of ice against her face. She bundles herself up and starts down the street in the direction of the subway.

After a few stops, she gets back up to the sidewalk and takes a couple more blocks before the name on the sign pops out at her. It's a dark green sign with gold cursive lettering, spelling out _The Old Haunt._ "This is it, I guess." She mutters to herself.

She carefully takes the snow-covered steps and pushes open the door. At least it's warm in here. A lot warmer than her apartment. She takes a long look around at the empty bar. The lights are all on, including the ones under the bar. The chairs around the few tables that line the center that cut between the row of booths against the back wall and the bar have chairs all stacked up on top of them. She lets the door slide shut behind her, cutting off the winter outside, and takes a step forward, looking for other signs of life.

"Hello?" She calls out.

She hears movement from the other end of the bar, sees a shadow move against one of the walls, and after a few seconds, she sees an older man, thin with a bald head of hair, glasses hanging from a band around his neck and a pair of suspenders over his shoulders. "Yeah? What do ya want?" He asks in a gruff voice, thick with a Brooklyn accent.

Kate scrunches her hands together, almost nervously, and takes a few steps forward. "I'm uh... I'm here about the job, i-if you're still hiring."

"Uh?" He asks and narrows his eyes over to her as he leans forward. But after a moment, it seems to come back to him and he nods. "Oh, yeah, yeah yeah. Come on down." He says and waves his hand, waving her down to his office.

Kate gives him a friendly, professional smile and follows him down the staircase to the office. This place definitely has a speakeasy feel to it. Not surprising, she thinks. This place must have been insane during prohibition. It's probably one of their selling points that keeps the regulars coming in, their history. She did see the wall of black and white photos as she walked through the bar. The man turns and lets his glasses fall around his neck and extends his hand. "Name's Tony Romano."

She grabs his hand and shakes it. "Kate Beckett." She says and pulls out her resume from the manilla folder under her arm.

Tony nods and takes her resume, putting his glasses on the tip of his nose and begins to read over it. "So... Kate," He begins, giving her resume a quick once over, "you have experience as a waitress?" He asks, looking over his glasses at her.

Kate nods seriously, "Since I was fifteen, yes, sir."

He nods and looks back down to her resume. "You over twenty-one?"

"I turned twenty-two this past November, sir."

"You ever serve alcohol?" He asks, looking back up at her over his glasses.

"No, sir."

"You have a _problem_ serving alcohol?"

Kate stops her eyes from rolling and nods her head. "No, sir. I'm familiar with alcohol to know the drink orders well enough."

Tony nods and flips to the next page, silent for a minute or two as he reads. He speaks after a moment. "Says here you did a semester down at Stanford, out west. But then came back here to finish up at NYU?"

Kate feels herself grow cold. "Yes, sir."

He grins, chuckling heartedly a few times. "What's a matter? Didn't like California?"

Kate glances back up at him before shaking her head. "Just... some family trouble, that's all."

He nods after a moment, seeming to accept her answer. "Alright." He says and continues to read. "Degree in Criminal Justice?"

Kate nods stiffly. "Yes, sir." Tony hums with another nod and turns his eyes back down to the papers. "I'm uh... I'm actually planning to enroll at the Police Academy once enrollment starts up in the summer."

That gains her his eyes. "You gonna be a cop?"

She nods seriously. "Yes, sir."

"I got a cousin who's a cop down in Boston. It's a rough life." Kate looks away from him, having heard it all before. "You sure you're up for that?"

She looks back over to him, "Do I have the job, sir?"

Tony looks over at her for a moment before cracking a smile. He flips her resume back over and puts it back down to his desk. "You can start tonight." He says and moves around to sit down behind his desk, opening a drawer.

"Tonight?"

He grabs a pen from a coffee mug on his desk, "What you have on should be fine. If you work out, I'll order you a shirt you can wear. Pay is minimum wage against tips, but most of the customers here are pretty generous. Especially when it comes to a girl like you." He says, waving the end of his pen at her.

"I'm sorry?" She asks.

Tony looks up to her with a smile. "This is a bar, little lady. No way around it, you're gonna get hit on. And let's face it, you're... objectively attractive." He says with a raised brow as he goes back to filling out a form. "Most of the people who come in here are nice enough, but occasionally we'll get a barfly who needs told to kick rocks. But, perfect training for you if you're gonna be a cop I guess, right?"

Kate pushes out a sigh, shifting her weight to one side. "Right."

"You can come back here at three. Micky, our bartender, will get you started."

* * *

She sets the try down on the counter next to the sink, with three glasses of half-melted ice sitting at the bottom of each one. The bartender, Micky, is friendly enough. Late thirties, two kids, him and his wife separated. She doesn't need that much training, really. Most of her experience carries over pretty easily. And Micky is quick enough that she hasn't had to make a drink yet.

Kate is just turning back around to the register when Micky is calling for her. "Hey, rum and coke with a whiskey sour, table eight." He says, putting two glasses on a tray on the edge of the bar.

She pushes out a hard breath and takes the tray. She saw the guys at table eight, one of the middle booths near the back. A rowdy couple of guys, not afraid to let her know that they find her attractive, using less polite vocabulary. But she's heard it all before. She's long since numbed herself to everything, every advance, ever shallow compliment, every obvious ogling stare, every hungry gaze. She feels nothing toward them now. For the best anyway.

She takes the tray over to the booth, setting the glasses down in front of the guys, who are just making their laughter die down. "Here you are." She says, her voice somewhat monotone and droning.

"Yeah. Hey, thanks." The guy says with an all too obvious grin as she takes the empty glasses from them, setting them on her tray to clear it off. She pays him no mind, being too obvious that she's ignoring him. If she plays along, he'll probably leave her alone when she shoots him down. But she's too frustrated to play along. "What, no you're welcome?" The guy says, putting his arms over the back of the booth.

Kate looks up at him with a blank stare. "That costs extra."

"How much would it cost for your number?" He shoots back.

But she's quicker to shoot back. "More than you'd earn in a lifetime." She says and turns to go around the other side of the bar to round around the other side, passing along the booth near the back corner near the front door.

And as she looks up to see the front door open, she feels the tray dig into her stomach and feels herself running into something, before the sound of smashing glass rings out across the bar. She looks down, seeing the drenched button-up shirt and wet dark jeans of someone standing in front of him, his arms held out in front of him. Her eyes stay downward as she feels a drag of annoyance, fear, panic, embarrassment, and shame hit her. "I'm... so sorry, sir." She starts and kneels down, picking up the shards of glass front the floor.

She hears him chuckle under his breath, then sees him kneel down across from her out of the corner of her eye. "It's alright. This shirt wasn't really doing it for me anyway." He says in a low, steady voice.

She looks up and sees a man smiling at her. He's handsome, cute... hot, even. Maybe a little older than herself, but his eyes are really, really blue. It catches her slightly off guard, but it's back up with the flick of a switch. She looks back down to the floor and starts picking up the ice. She chances a glance back up in his direction when he starts helping her with the smaller bits of glass that fell in between the cracks of the burgundy tile.

She's still in the process of picking up the last bits of ice when she sees his hand extend toward her. "I'm Rick."

She looks back up to him with another blank stare. "Is this you asking for my number? Because if so, you'd be the fourth guy tonight."

His soft, boyish smirk remains on his face as he looks away, "Would it help my chances if I said no?"

She narrows her eyes. "About as much as it helped the other guys."

"What if I said you didn't have to pay the dry cleaning bill for the shirt?"

She rolls her eyes, swallowing a scoff. "I apologized, didn't I?"

"And I never actually accepted that apology, so..." he says, his soft smirk turning into a small, tight smile.

Kate breathes out a hard sigh as she stands back up with the tray of shattered glass, seeing Rick stand up across from her with another soft smirk. "Can I get you anything?"

Rick just tugs at his wet stomach with the tips of his fingers. "Just... bring me whatever it is you just spilled on me, I guess."

Kate rolls her eyes again and shifts her weight, but can't help the smile she feels tugging at the edges of one side of her lips. "One rum and coke, then."

" _That's_ what it was?" He asks, his expression twisting together. "Oh god, that's going to be sticky."

"Hey!" A gruff voice shouts from the other side of the bar.

She quickly turns in ear at the sound of the manager's voice yelling in her direction. She sees Tony leering at her from the edge of the bar near the stairs to the office, glaring at her. But after a moment, she sees an arm being raised up at him. "It was my fault, Tony. Wasn't looking."

Tony seems to disengage in an instant as he shakes his head with a smile, waving his hand at him. "Ah, Ricky. You know, if you weren't so pretty, you'd be out on your ass!" Tony shouts with a smile and a pointed finger.

"I knew your wife kept me around for a reason!" Rick shouts back. The manager just shakes his head as he laughs, waving his hand at him again as he goes back to the register. Rick then turns to her, grabbing a napkin from the booth he was seated at.

Kate looks at him for a second, following him with her eyes, too consciously aware that her eyes are following him too much. "Thanks."

He smiles and starts to clean off his shirt. "Well, if not your number, can I at least get your name?"

She nods, putting her tray in one hand and extending her other out to him. "I'm Kate."

He smiles warmly at her, looking her in the eye. Something about his smile makes her gut twist, her chest tighten. "Nice to meet you, Kate."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Loved the response I got. Was TOTALLY unexpected!_

 _Well, now that you guys got a taste for Kate's situation, how about Rick's, huh? As Isaid in the start, it's a total AU. If you recall, Rick stopped going to The Old Haunt when Alexis was born, which was 1993. Kate's mom's murder wasn't until 1999. So, if this story were to stay true to the timeline of the show, it would be around 2001 or 2002. But the timeline has shifted to help facilitate the story, not confused everything. I'd say it's probably around 1997 or 98, maybe. Lateninties. Hope that clears it up. :)_

* * *

He's always hated sleeping alone. Not that he hasn't gotten used to it ever since she left. He still hates it. A stray pillow clutched to his chest can only do so much to substitute an actual body.

But now, it's getting near eleven and he still hasn't gotten out of bed. Just nearing a half an hour staring at the stucco ceiling, tracing the pattern right above his head that looks like a Spartan warrior readying to throw his spear. There's another one about a foot below it that looks like the face of Mars. Not exactly, but if he unfocuses his eyes just right, it's there. A part of him enjoys this, just tracing patterns that are nothing more than ridged lines from the plaster on the ceiling.

His apartment is hot right now. It's his own fault. He anticipated the cold snap that was supposed to roll into the city, but it seems he overcompensated by turning the heat to eighty. He could get up and fix it, after all, that would be the easiest solution. But the heat is, at the same time, making him lazy and ambitionless. He just had his new book hit the shelves, so continuing his writing on his latest book seems like a chore. And he hates chores.

But when he lets out a long, heavy sigh and runs his palm down the flat expanse of his stomach, he rolls his head over and looks at his alarm clock, seeing it's just before eleven. He's still somewhat at odds with his latest publicist. She's a good businesswoman; smart, reasonably talented for her field. But the deal for his latest book was already written in stone when he left. Colin was a good guy, always got him the best deals when arguing with the board about money and advances. He hasn't heard anything from anyone since Colin left. But dealing with the publishing company is always a hassle and one he never wants to tangle with.

He makes enough, more than enough for a single guy like himself. But still, he'd like out of this apartment. It's a nice apartment, compared to others he's had to squat in over the years. He learned early on in his life to make the best of what little accommodations he's given. Living in boarding school dorm after boarding school dorm, then with nanny after nanny will do that to you. But he doesn't want to get tangled up in something he can't pay for outright and not have anything hanging over his head.

The rent here is cheap enough for the standard of living he's gotten used to. But he'd love a bigger place. Maybe somewhere in SoHo, a loft maybe. He's always loved those big, open, overly spacious places. But he's learned his lesson about buying things he can't afford after he got that first advance from Black Pawn. Came and gone before his first reader could even finish the book.

But it's no use dwelling on it now. He's still a few books away from affording a place like the one he wants or at least affording to pay for one outright. It's probably just an excuse.

He rolls his eyes and groans as he flips off the covers and sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. After a pause to let his muscles tense and relax, he stands up and ruffles his hair just as a powerful yawn bellows out from his diaphragm. He lets his stride stagger, his feet falling flat and loudly on the hardwood floor as he makes his way out into the all too quiet apartment. He goes across the hall and takes a pause at the doorway into the bathroom to turn the knob down a few clicks to cool the apartment off a bit before heading inside, not bothering to close the door other than a quick flick of his wrist at the door's edge.

After another ten minutes, he goes into his kitchen and presses the button on his espresso machine. It's the one purchase he made with his first book advance that he doesn't entirely regret. It was still during his barista days when it was his day job. After whipping up a quick latte, he takes the first sweet sip and moans to himself as he goes out into his living room and stands at the glass door to his balcony. They got a little more snow last night, but not much. Maybe another inch.

He mindlessly pads and meanders around his quiet apartment, finishing off his latte before realizing he's needed somewhere and hops in the shower. He throws on some clothes, a burgundy button-up shirt, some dark blue denim jeans, and one of his thicker blazers. While running his fingers through his damp hair to give it a quick style, he grabs a pale blue scarf and heads out the door.

He heads through the snow falling on his face, dodging people scrunched together in their winter garb as they walk with the wind. It's just a half an hour walk to get to his publisher's office. He gives the front desk clerk a friendly smile as he heads to the elevator and presses the button labeled with a seven. After getting off and seeing the regular secretary seated at her desk beside the oak door in the middle of two large frosted glass windows, she stands up with a smile just as she's hanging up the phone. "Good to see you, Mr. Castle."

Rick smiles and pulls his hands out of the pockets of his wool coat. "You too, Stacey."

Stacey comes around her desk with a stack of papers in her hand, headed for the copier. "It will just be another couple of minutes. They're up in a meeting now, but she'll be expecting you."

Rick nods and pulls his scarf off his neck and hangs it up on one of the hooks, but just as he's pulling his first layer of winter protection off his shoulders, he hears the doors to the elevator slide open, cued with a ding of the electronic bell. Rick lets out an internal sigh as he hangs up his coat and tugs at the lapels of his blazer and turns around to greet her.

"Morning, Rick." She says, not really bothering to look in his direction other than a side glance as she heads for the door to her office.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as he follows her inside. "Actually, it's after twelve o'clock, Gina. Proper greeting would be 'good afternoon', or... maybe even an old fashion 'good day'."

"Well," Gina says as she tosses the file down onto her desk and maneuvers around to sit down, leaning back in her office chair with her legs crossed, "whatever you want to call it, it's always a good day when we have a new book release." She says, swinging her foot back and forth as Rick decides to stay standing and just pace across her office.

"You have the numbers yet?" Rick asks.

Gina leans forward and pulls herself up to her desk, pulling out a sheet of paper from the file she slapped down on her desk. "Just preliminary," She says and hands him the paper, "but they're expecting it to easily be another best seller." Gina says with a wide, almost mischievous smile.

"Good, good." Rick says softly and he looks over the projections. "What about the reviews? You have any of those?" He asks her and takes a step forward, handing her the paperback.

Gina smiles, takes the paper from him and pulls out another paper, leaning herself back in her chair again. "Richard Castle's latest book has hit the shelves of bookstores worldwide this morning. Based upon a recent string of serial murders in his hometown of New York City, the novelist takes the reader on another thrilling mystery, that only leaves the reader wanting oh so much more."

Rick smiles to himself as Gina reads the review to him, pacing back through her office with his eyes faced down to the floor.

"But," Gina says with a lift in her voice, too much of a lift in her voice, "he also surprises us with the book itself." Rick spins to look at her, smiling with her eyes down to the review. "For the first time, Richard Castle has graced the reader with the face behind the name 'Richard Castle'."

"What are you talking about?" Rick asks with a deep crease in his brow.

"For some time, Richard Castle's novels have topped the best seller's list, with little knowledge of the man behind the name, or even the face. But with a face like that, you've got to wonder why that ruggedly handsome, boyish smile isn't on all of his books. It seems Richard Castle certainly has more to add to his resume than just a best selling novelist." With that, Gina finishes and floats the sheet of paper back down to her desk with a smile.

"You put my picture on the back of the book?" He asks, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Yes, I did." She says, pointing a finger at him. "I ran it by the board a while back and they all agreed that it was a great idea."

"Why?" He asks, somewhat frustrated. "Where'd you even get a picture?"

Gina waves her hand at him as she stands up and comes around to the front of her desk. "I just used one of the ones you took at the last book release party and cropped it. And as to why," She says and pulls out another sheet of paper, "I got a call from a reporter a few weeks ago. And she wanted to do a bio on you because she wants to make _you_ one of New York's most eligible bachelors."

With that, Rick grimaces, rolls his eyes, and scoffs. "No way."

"Oh, come on, Rick!" Gina urges him. "We think it's a great idea."

"We?" Rick stops her, turning around and shooting her a raised brow. "Who exactly is we?" When Gina doesn't answer, the silence gives him the answer. "My mother put you up to this, didn't she?"

Gina seems to bite the inside of her lip before continuing. "She's just a little worried about you, is all. You know... taking your time to settle down and everything."

"Settle down? I'm twenty-six, okay?"

"And all you do is spend all your time down at that hole in the wall. You're never gonna meet anyone sitting in that darkened booth down at the Old Haunt, Rick."

"Is that why you put my picture on my new book? And why you're so excited about conspiring with my mother to auction me off?" Rick complains with a shrug of his shoulders.

Gina just matches with a shrug of her own. "Well, what I had started to do was something else actually. Putting yourself out there was Martha's idea. What I'm trying to do is something different." Gina says with a proud smile.

Rick rocks his head back, "And... god forbid my asking, what is that?"

"I'm trying to build a brand."

Rick raises his brow. "Build a brand?"

"Yes!" Gina says excitedly. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you about your next book."

"It's still a rough draft. Why?"

"Well, I want you to be open to the idea of... turning it into a series."

That pulls the air out of his lungs. "A... a series?"

"Yes!" Gina says, "We want you to turn Derrick Storm _and_ Richard Castle into a household name. To turn _you_ into the new James Patterson."

"Gina, this story isn't written to be a series. I would have to rewrite the entire ending." He complains. All he's met with is a silent smirk. "If this is your way of trying to steal creative authority from me, I'm walking right out the door." He says strongly, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

"No, no, it's not." Gina says, quickly dismissing his fears. "I told the board that it's ultimately your decision if you want to turn Gathering Storm into the first of a series and that if this is going to happen, you will have to maintain total creative authority. I know that's a deal breaker for you, Rick."

He nods, disengaging his fight-or-flight. "Okay." He says, nodding his head slowly. "Well, if I'm gonna do this, I'm... gonna have to see some more numbers."

Gina smiles knowingly and reaches behind her, pulling out another sheet of paper. "We drew this up while we were up there. It's not final, but... it's in the ballpark." She says and extends the paper in his direction.

He takes the paper and when he sees the number, his jaw almost goes slack, and his mind is made up in an instant. "You've got a deal."

Gina smiles and takes the paper back from him. "I'm glad to hear it, Rick. Now, in the spirit of that, I have a photo shoot set up for you tomorrow. I'd like the next book to have a decent picture of you on the back cover." She says as she moves around to sit back down at her desk. "And uh... wear a different color, okay?" She asks and picks up a pen.

"What's wrong with this?" He asks, picking at the fabric of his burgundy button-up.

"It's not really doing it for you is all. Try blue, maybe purple."

* * *

Taking a deep breath he takes another small sip of the last of his scotch rocks and rolls his eyes. He did not have this story mapped out to accommodate for it being a series. And on top of that, he has his mother and his publicist trying to set him up with half of Manhattan. Yes, he wants to meet someone. He knows the lifestyle Gina and his mother are trying to force him into, even if it is under the clever guise of 'settling down'.

Sure, he's had a few girlfriends since his last serious relationship. Even if his last serious relationship left him rawer than he wants to admit to anyone. And he's tried, he's tasted that carefree, nothing really matters, lifestyle before. He's spent a few nights at an unfamiliar bar other than the one he finds himself at now, buying a shallow nobody drinks just before they end up talking his drunken self into coming back to a hotel room. They were always gone in the morning and he can never tell which made him sicker, the alcohol, or the meaninglessness.

He takes the last sip that's been swirling around the bottom rim of the glass and pushes himself out of his regular booth and stands up.

But he just gets to his feet when he feets a tray hit his stomach and the cold sting of chilled liquid splash against his abdomen and run down his crotch. He's deeply annoyed and aggravated, but when he looks up, he feels himself go limp. He heard the guys in the next booth crack lame jokes, like they were hitting on someone, but he paid it no mind and let it go in one ear, out the other. But now that he sees her, he can't blame them for trying.

She's... she's stunning. "I'm... so sorry, sir." She says in a smooth, soft voice that makes his throat tighten. It could just be the drinks seeping into his clothes.

"It's alright." He says with a smile that she isn't looking at. "This shirt wasn't really doing it for me anyway."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Long break. :)_

 _Hope you guys like this chapter. Setting the scene a bit more. Let me know._

* * *

It's a long shift. For the first night at a new job, in an entirely new setting than where she's waitressed before, it was a long shift. It slowed down a bit around midnight, but tomorrow is Friday. So she'll probably be more exhausted, having to deal with being hit on more than she already was tonight. Most of the customers seemed to get the idea that she wasn't interested after their first attempt. But there was one guy, he kept trying. He was really cute, but still. Obnoxious, just like the rest of them.

Once the 'closed' sign is flipped over and the main lights are shut off, she pulls her coat back on after counting out her tips. $96 in one night isn't bad. She stops counting when one of the fives has a note written on it in blue ink. _I'll send you the bill for the shirt,_ the note says, along with a small, crudely drawn smiley face. The embarrassing image of her smashing a tray of half-empty glasses on that guy... Rick, his name was... flashes in her mind. She rolls her eyes on a suck of her teeth and folds up the pile of singles and fives and stuffs them into the side pocket of her coat.

"So, how'd the new hire do tonight, Mick?" The manager asks, coming off the stairs from the downstairs office.

The bartender is rubbing down the counter one last time for the night as he smiles over. "Did great. Girl's quick, easy on the eyes, and knows how to handle a drunken come on. Believe you me."

Kate chuckles under her breath as she pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat and stands near the register to be officially dismissed for the night. Tony looks back over with crossed arms and a smile, pulling the glasses off his nose. "Yeah, well, be more careful not to knock drinks onto our usuals and I think you're a good fit."

She nods, somewhat sheepishly as the manager makes his way back downstairs. "Thank you, sir."

"At least until you join the force, am I right? Go on, kid. Get some rest." Tony says as he passes her.

Micky looks up after shuffling a few things behind the bar. "Join the force? You're gonna be a cop?"

Kate nods, her legs wanting to move out of the bar and go home. Maybe stop and get something to eat. Maybe check on Dad. "That's the plan, yeah."

Micky nods and looks away, "Huh," He says simply and goes about cleaning up the bar before leaving for the night.

Kate, deciding to just let him have the last word or grunt, turns for the door and heads out, carefully jumping up the snow-covered steps and into the cold, dark night of the city. She tightens herself up against the winter wind, zipping her coat all the way up and bundling up smaller as she walks briskly down the street. She's hungry and her legs are tired. Her parent's apartment is a bit out of the way on her way home, and chances are the food choices will be very limited there.

But she has to check on him. She's neglected to do so for the last week or so. She feels bad and is worried he hasn't at least tried to call her at this point. She pushes a sigh, knowing her mind was already made up before she started to internally debate it with herself and makes her way through town to her parent's apartment. She's mindful to keep her eyes trained on where her feet are being placed, instead of the on the walls or the numbers on the doors as she passes them. She digs her keys out of her pants pocket and is fiddling with them, trying to find the right one, when she inadvertently looks up.

She misses a step as her throat tightens and a voice echoes in her ears. _"Mr. Beckett, I'm afraid I have some bad news."_

She hardens her heart as quickly and violently as she can and looks back down to her keys, passing her pepper spray keychain and the key to her apartment. After opening the door, she finds the lights are still on. There are a few pieces of laundry strewn about, he left the milk sitting out on the counter in the kitchen, along with the TV being left on with nothing but the show of static and the sound of white noise coming from it.

"Dad?" She calls out.

No response.

She closes the door and flicks the deadbolt. She then moves over to the coffee table and clicks the TV off, then picks up the gold and blue tie off the arm of the couch, along with the dress shirt hanging from the back of one of the chairs in front of the dining table, which has papers from his job haphazardly tossed about. Not like he was working and was just too busy to keep organized. Like he just came home and didn't care that his files came spilling out of his bag when he tossed it on the table.

She doesn't bother with the milk and simply decides to throw it away. She folds up the dress shirt and places it at the edge of the counter with the tie on top and checks the fridge. All she sees is a pizza box, which when she grabs to steal a slice, she finds is empty, a container of leftovers from when she came over the last time. Just a simple meal of chicken and rice now left sitting in a Tupperware container. She rolls her eyes as she pushes her bangs out of her face and flicks the refrigerator door closed.

She picks up the clothes and makes her way down the hall to the door at the end, not bothering to stop with the door next to it, which is her old room. The door is still open and the light is still on. She pokes her head inside and sees him, a cold wave of despair washing over her.

He has a light, blotchy coat of scruff covering his tired face, with his slacks still on, but with a white undershirt tank top on, an empty whiskey bottle on the floor just below where his arm is hanging off the edge of the bed. She puts the clothes on top of the dresser and takes a few steps forward. The first thing she notices is that the picture, usually sitting right there on the nightstand, is now knocked over, sitting face down. She's found it like this before, but it's become a common occurrence the more often she's come to check on him.

She clenches her teeth and takes the frame, setting it upright and angling it toward the bed, the person in the picture facing him. She hopes it will make some sort of point, telling him in a way that even she won't believe in, that she's still watching somewhere. But she knows it won't. All he'll see is a reminder of why he drinks.

She takes a long moment to take in her mother's smile in the picture before picking up the empty bottle off the floor and disposing of it in the trash can next to the bed. She then lifts her dad's arm up and places it back on the bed, then pulls his shoes off. She takes the afghan from the chair in the corner and drapes it over him letting him sleep. "Night, Dad."

All she's met with is a loud snore.

She's mindful to turn off the light as she leaves.

* * *

"Come on, Dad. I'm only home for another week." She whines as she steps out of the cab.

Her dad pays the cabbie and steps out next to her. "I know, Katie. But you know how your mom gets if we eat without her."

"I want to go to Mama Maria's before I have to back to school, Dad. Is that really too much to ask?"

Her dad just lifts his hand and pulls open the door to their building. "Your mother probably just got caught up in her work. You know how she gets, sweetie." He says as he's pressing the button on the elevator. "She just picked up some more pro-bono work last week, and on top of her regular work back at the firm, she has a lot on her plate."

"She knows how much I love that place though, Daddy. Why would she blow us off?" She keeps whining, knowing full well she's whining at this point. But she doesn't care. She's home and she wanted to go to their favorite Italian place just once, just _once_ before she has to fly back to Stanford.

"I don't know, sweetie. But hey," He says and pulls her in by the shoulder, "we had fun ice skating, right? And we still have breakfast in the morning."

She feels a smile prick at the edges of her lips when her dad hugs her into his side. "Dad," She faux-complains as she pushes him off her with a smirk.

He chuckles breathlessly as the doors of the elevator open. "Maybe we can just order in and you can see if that show you two like is on." He says as they step off.

"Temptation Lane is on in the afternoon, Dad." She points out as she rounds the corner and looks up. She sees someone standing at their door, a long, tan trench coat on. Her and her dad slow to a stop when he turns to them. "Who's that, Dad?"

"I-I'm not sure, Katie." He says. "Can I help you?" He asks him.

"Mr. Beckett?" The man asks. Her dad nods silently. The man then flips the opening of his coat open and pulls a police badge off his belt. "Detective John Raglan, NYPD." He says and holds up the badge.

"Yes, what's this about, Detective?" He asks and grabs onto her wrist with a tight grip.

"Mr. Beckett..." The detective says as he's putting his badge away. She can feel her heart shutter, squeeze, rising into her throat. "Mr. Beckett, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

* * *

Her gasp wakes her up. Her body jolts suddenly a split second after she wakes, her brainless mind quickly scanning the room, looking for nothing. It takes longer than usual to get her bearings and realize where... and when she is. She lets her eyes drift shut as she falls back into her bed. She rolls her head over and looks over her book and at her alarm clock. It's just after nine. Not as late as she wanted to sleep, seeing as she didn't get home until around two in the morning. But there's no use going back to sleep now.

Even if she wanted to, she probably couldn't. It's been a while since she's had that dream.

She pushes it to the back of her mind and relaxes back into bed, just staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes in thought, she reaches over and grabs her book, raising her knees and resting it on her stomach. She can stand to read for another half an hour before her bodily functions require tending and she has to get out of bed. The book is moving along, but these wickens aren't making it easy for her to finish. She'll probably finish it out of spite at this point. After coming out of the bathroom, she finds Lanie sitting in the corner of the couch, with a coffee mug in her hand and a book in the other.

"Hey," Kate greets simply as she moves into the kitchenette, grabbing a glass and the carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"Coffee in there," Lanie says from the couch.

"Oh, uh..." She says as she pours herself a glass of orange juice. "I'm not really a big coffee drinker. My dad only drinks it black, so..."

Lanie laughs humorlessly and shakes her head, lifting her mug to her lips again. "Well, it's there, anyways."

Kate nods to herself as she meanders aimlessly around the kitchenette. She could stand to make a friend. And her roommate seems nice enough. She looks over at her briefly, seeing her read a novel with the author's picture on the back. "So, what're you reading?" She asks, cutting herself off with her orange juice.

"Hmm?" Lanie asks over her coffee. "Oh," She says and turns the book around, setting it down to her lap to turn the page with one hand. "I picked it up on my way home yesterday. It's the new book from Richard Castle."

Kate sucks her teeth as she finishes her orange juice. "Really? I read him all the time."

"He's good." Lanie says with a lift of her brow, looking up at Kate.

"I didn't know he had a new book out. I'm still trying to get through his last one." Kate points out as she's making her way around the coffee table to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

"You mean the one about the evil wickens out for revenge?" Lanie asks incredulously.

Kate laughs, "Yeah, that's the one." Lanie laughs with her as she turns her head down to the book in her lap. "What's this one about?"

"I guess it's based on that serial killer that the police were looking for a while back." Lanie answers as she readjusts the book to look at the right page, the covers still sitting on her crossed legs.

"The Triple Killer?"

"Yep."

Kate looks away and nods. "Hmm," She hums. She'd love to hear the authors take on that string of murders. It was all over the news, after all. Maybe he even helped out the police, in exchange for letting him write a book based on the events. That would be pretty amazing. Her favorite author helping catch a serial killer in his spare time. She's never put that much thought into the actual author. He was always just a name. He's an amazing writer, a great story-teller. Losing herself in that world, where the detective actually catches the person responsible... it helps.

Lanie seems to take the last sip of her coffee, raising the mug higher up to drain it, before marking her page in her book and setting the book down, front cover down against the coffee table as she stands up.

Kate follows her with her eyes for a moment and readjusts her legs on the couch, crossing one underneath the other and letting out a deep breath. But when she settles back down, her eyes find the back cover of the book, and her blood jumps in her veins. In a flash, she's reaching forward and grabbing the paperback in her hands and bringing it forward, staring in utter disbelief at the picture on the back.

"You sure you don't want some coffee, girl? This stuff is good!" Lanie says coming back into the living room.

Kate looks up with a tight, deep knot in her brow. "Who's this?" She asks.

Lanie stops, looking between her and the book. "That's the author. Why?" Lanie says.

" _This_ is Richard Castle?" She asks, pointing at the picture of that familiar looking smile on the back.

"Yeah," Lanie says and falls back down to the couch. "He's _cute,_ too!"

"I-I..." She says just before letting out the rest of her breath and looking down at the picture. Maybe she's never noticed, but none of his other books have his picture on the back. She has every single one, but she's never seen his picture on the back. But this guy...

She knows this guy. She's _met_ this guy. This obnoxious, can't-take-a-hint, albeit _very_ attractive guy. She did notice he had a laptop computer plugged into the wall at the booth he was sitting at. But... no, she couldn't have possibly spilled drinks on _the_ Richard Castle last night, could she?

"What's going on, Kate?" Lanie asks.

Kate looks over before shaking her head, looking down to that smile that somehow still manages to make her stomach curl. "I owe the Richard Castle a shirt."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: More dialogue between Rick and Kate in this one. Let me know. :)_

All he can say is he needs a drink.

He never really put that much stock in stereotypes, but the one about the male photographers in the modeling industry seems to be all too true. _You should think about wearing tighter pants,_ were his last words. He did wear blue, a deep blue under a lighter charcoal sportcoat. He was there for close to three hours, taking shot after shot of the same smirk. It became heavier and heavier as the afternoon wore on. After scrubbing his face completely free of the makeup in the studio's bathroom, he went home.

He's opening his door and tugging his coat off to go about changing into something more casual while he's debating with himself if he has the energy to head down to the Haunt or not. He notices as he's undoing the next button on his shirt that the message light is flashing and steps over to the machine to check his answering machine.

He presses the button with one hand and untucks his shirt with the other. " _Richard? It's me._ " The voice of his mother says. " _I spoke to your new publicist."_ That causes him to scoff out loud and roll his eyes. _"I do hope your photo shoot went well."_

"Fat chance." He says out loud.

" _And don't worry, dear. In a year or two, when you're walking down that aisle, you'll thank me."_

"Well, you just got yourself uninvited." He mutters.

" _Also, before I forget, due to some new policies at the theater, they are having me sign up for health insurance. I tried to tell them there's no need, that I'm healthy as a horse, but they're being stubborn. So, after a talk with Gina, she said it would be easier for everyone if I just signed up under your plan. And on that note, I have a check-up this Sunday. Call me before then, Richard. Love you, dear."_

The answering machine beeps and the messages end, but Rick is down the hall and is at his closet, pulling a softer flannel over his shoulders. Luckily, with her working most nights at the theater, his mother's intervention in his personal life can be easily avoided by fibbing and saying he never got her message. He doesn't need her help. Or help period, for that matter.

And if there's anyone whose advice he'd let pass through his ears, it's her's. She's his mother and she still hasn't 'settled down', as she so lovingly puts it. And if he's being objective about the matter, it's just her doing her job as a mother when she injects herself into his personal life like this. But the line has to be somewhere, right?

He pushes out a long breath when he snaps the last button on his shirt closed and shakes the sleeves out. He really could use a drink. And besides, he has a serious amount of editing to this story map if he's to make this next book into a series. He checks his watch and sees that he would probably have to leave now if he wants to get his usual booth and wants to get any semblance of work done before the Friday night crowd shows up.

And with any luck, that stunning waitress will be working tonight.

He's pulling on his charcoal sports coat and grabbing his shoulder bag that contains his laptop by the time he notices the soft smile pulling his face apart. It was fun messing with her. He can't help but think of her face as she read his note that he left her on the tip he left her. She seems like the type who can easily take a joke but would rather rebutt than just laugh along. Kate was her name. He's always liked that name.

He whips a pale blue scarf around his neck before he leaves for the night and heads out onto the street to make his way to the Haunt. The sky is already getting painted a darker shade of blue as the night falls, the city noisy and congested with the gridlock traffic. She really was pretty. It's the kind of pretty that sticks with you, makes your jaw go slack if you think about it too much. Easy to get wrapped up in.

After a half an hour of footwork, he's guiding himself down the steps along the railing and is pushing open the door.

There are already a few people sitting at the bar; a couple chatting away near the entrance with half-full mugs of beer, and a businessman off for the weekend, nursing a martini. With a quick scan, finding his usual nest vacant, his eyes go back to scan the bar and he finds her. His system tightens at the sight of her fetching features, the low light of the bar casting haunting shadows across her face.

Haunting woman working at The Old Haunt. He chuckles when the thought dances through his fuzzed mind.

He lowers his gaze and turns, making his way over to the booth, setting his bag down to the floor and getting his laptop set up.

Unbeknownst to him, she was only aware of his arrival by the time the rush of cold air from the door opening smacked her in the face. And by that time, he had already turned and was scooting himself into the booth where she first met him. Her stomach tightens the same way it did yesterday and she sucks in an unsatisfying breath.

 _He's still the obnoxious guy, sitting in a bar, that wouldn't leave you alone, Kate. Remember that._ She thinks to herself as she's rounding the bar. But still, she's smoothing the stomach of her white blouse over and dusting off her thighs before pulling out her pad as she makes her way across the bar to the booth in the back corner.

She takes her pen and clicks the end, rapidly, in a quickly-manifesting nervous twitch as she approaches the booth. She shakes her head when she realizes she's doing it and steps up to the table.

He looks up with that stomach tightening smile of his and wags his eyebrows over the top of his laptop. "Come for the bill?" Are the first words out of his mouth.

She can't stop the roll of her eyes and she shift of her weight onto one foot. "I said I was sorry, alright? It was my first night." She says.

He just lets his eyes drift shut as he smirks, raises his hand, and shakes his head. "I'm just kidding, don't worry."

"Right." She says, her breath a lump in her throat as she looks down to the floor. "Right," She repeats and digs her foot into the tile.

"Well, if it helps at all, we all have our... missteps." He says after a moment of pause.

She looks up, seeing him still smirking. "Faux pas." She says, not giving him a chance to rebutt. His eyes seem to narrow as his head cocks in one direction. "The term you're looking for is faux pas."

He chuckles and nods his head. "I would have said that, but French has always sounded like someone who's right on the verge of sneezing." He says, windmilling his hand in front of his face.

She swallows a hard chuckle and crosses her arms. "And what if I spoke French?"

His eyes cast off to the side before looking back up to her, "Then you'd know what I mean."

She shoves her tongue into her cheek and shakes her head, looking down to the floor again, knowing he's smiling a grin that gives the Cheshire cat a run for its money.

"Do you?" He asks after waiting for his reward of her laughter.

She looks up again, "Actually, I speak Russian."

"So, you can sound like a horse with cold peanut-butter in its mouth?"

That sends an odd mix of warm amusement and stinging insult swirling in the pit of her stomach as she shifts her weight from one side to the other, cocking her hip out to the side. "You know, I spent a semester abroad in Russia a few years back."

His brow falls and his eyes soften as he leans forward on his arms. "That's terrible, I'm so sorry."

She crosses her arms tighter of her stomach as she rolls her eyes and lets her head fall forward, practically feeling his proud grin on his handsome face. After another moment of pause between them, she pulls out her pad and clicks her pen. "What can I get you, Mr. Castle?"

When he doesn't respond, she looks up and sees his brow raised and him leaned back in the booth.

"What?" She asks.

"You uh..." He starts and leans back forward, "you know who I am?"

That sends her throat squeezing shut and her heart palpitating. "Uh..." She panics, squeezing her pen in between her fingers. "I..." She stutters, coming up with a few quick excuses to not make herself look like an utter fool, "I asked about you last night and they said your picture was on the wall, that's it." She quickly explains, pointing over her shoulder with her pen and shrugging her shoulders.

With a pause, Rick nods slowly. "Ah," He says.

"So," She begins again, putting her pen to her pad again, "what can I get you?"

Rick chuckles under his breath and raises his hand. "Just the usual."

With that, Kate looks up at him again with a deadpan gaze, giving him the hint.

He smiles fully, flashing his teeth as he nods to himself again. "Right, uh... double scotch on the rocks, please."

She jots down his drink quickly, "On the rocks..." She says as she scrawls. "You uh... you want anything else to ruin a perfectly good drink?" She asks, giving him a Cheshire grin of her own as she looks back up at him again.

He narrows his eyes, giving her a look that silently says 'really?', and leans back.

"Double scotch rocks, coming up." She says and moves away and back to the bar.

Rick smiles to himself and shakes his head, looking back to his laptop and opening his text from the previous night. She's fun to talk to. Quick on the wit, that's for sure. It's nice, maybe someone to verbally spare with. That quip of hers about preferring ice in his scotch was pretty funny, if not a bit insulting to his masculinity. His last serious relationship always preferred to let things like that roll off her back, never saw the point in fighting back.

But Kate, she's quick. It's almost refreshing.

A part of him was kind of hoping to keep his identity with her concealed for a bit longer, but since she knows already, she doesn't seem to really care. Or maybe she does and just forgot once he started with the comment about the bill for the shirt. He chuckles to himself at the thought and goes about rereading his last words on the wall of text on the screen. It's just a minute to himself before Kate is coming back to the booth and setting down a glass on a coaster.

"There you are." She says and slides it across the table to him.

He looks up and flashes her a smile, his eyes crinkling, and it sends her stomach fluttering with butterflies. That's got to stop. He's obnoxious and too quick to think what he's saying is funny. It can be, but still.

"Thanks." He says and quickly reaches for the glass and takes a rather large sip.

And she really can't help herself. "That was a bit quick, don't you think?"

"Huh?" He says in a hoarse voice as he sets the glass back down. "Oh," He says and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I had this... stupid photo shoot that my publicist sent me to this afternoon."

"Ah," She says, nodding her head, letting him vent a bit. And... maybe just a part of her is honestly intrigued that the best selling novelist Richard Castle has his very own woes and is willing to share with her.

He's looking back toward the screen and putting his fingers back on his keyboard as he continues to explain. "Let's just say... there are occasions where getting hit on is far from flattering."

And with that, she knows what he's talking about. "Oh, yeah." She says on a chuckle, knowing exactly what he's talking about.

He looks up but smirks after a moment. "Yeah, I guess a girl as fair as you gets that a lot in your line of work." He says on a smile.

She feels the intense heat from her blush quickly flaring up her neck and up her cheeks before she can hide it by looking away and running her bangs behind her ear with her finger. He just said she was pretty. "Right," She mutters.

"Anyway," He says and grabs his glass again, "I just had to spend three hours with some guy staring at my..." He just decides to cut himself off by downing the rest of his scotch. He sucks on his teeth as he sets the glass back down.

She's grabbing the glass from the coaster right has his hand is leaving it. "I'll get you another one."

His fingers are already clacking against the keys as she leaves. "Thanks."

The night wears on quickly and the bar fills up but starts to quiet down around ten or so, with Rick still sitting in the back booth, now just slowly nursing his fourth glass as he works. It was a bit hectic for her for a few hours, but once it quieted down it was easy. Once Rick seemed to focus on his laptop for the night, her refilling his glass with scotch and him thanking her was about the only conversation to be had between them.

But as she's punching in another order in the register, she sees movement in his booth. She looks up and sees him closing his laptop and turning to unplug it from the wall behind him. She speeds up the process of entering in orders and is quickly moving around the bar to go over to him, feigning interest in seeing him out with just checking on him for the bill.

She approaches him and is pulling off his tab as he's standing up. He pulls his bag over his shoulder and reaches behind him. "Thanks for the drinks, Kate." He says and reaches behind him to pull out a twenty, with a five on top. "This should about cover it." He says and hands her the bills.

She takes the money and folds it up, looking down to the floor, almost nervously, and puts it in one of the pockets on her apron. "Let me-"

But he stops her with a raised hand. "You can keep the change."

She looks back up at him and flashes a small smile. "Thanks... Rick."

"Well," He starts, putting his hands in the pockets of his sports coat, "anything for a fan." He says with a smirk.

Her eyes shoot wide up to him, feeling small and thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry?"

"You know your nose crinkles when you lie?" He says, pointing at the bridge of his nose.

"Uh..." Is all she can manage.

He breathes a small chuckle and pulls open the flap of his bag. "Here," He says and reaches into the folds, pulling out a book and a pen. He flips open the cover and quickly scrawls out a message and flips the cover closed, then hands her the book. "My latest work... on the house."

She nervously takes the hardback in her hand and looks up with wide eyes at his stomach-tighteningly soft smile.

"Nice talking to you, Kate." He says and quickly spins around, heading out the door.

Once his broad shoulders are out the door, she looks down to the book and flips open the cover and with a pounding heart, begins to read.

 _Word of advice: smile more. I'll leave bigger tips that way. ~Rick Castle_


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a lazy Saturday. Wasting away, deserving of the time or not, on the couch in his apartment.

Gina coercing him into making his next book into a series forced him to change almost everything about it. He has to change the entire character development arch, the entire plot, the entire subplot, every minor character, every interaction. He can't leave anything if he's going to keep readers interested in this new main character for however many books he decides to write on him. He would have said no, but the projections Gina gave him were just too staggering to turn down.

He doesn't like writing when he feels obligated to. It turns to a chore, therefore turns into work, and when it turns into work, it stops being his passion. When it's his passion, it flows down onto the page easily. When it's work and he has to trudge through it, the words turn from a slow, painted picture to a blocky, overly organized brick wall in the reader's mind. Just laying down identical brick after identical brick onto the page to form sentences with no feeling or emotion other than wanting to get the job done and serve a mundane function.

It's probably one of the reasons he likes to write down at the Haunt. Being in the atmosphere of people unwinding from their own mundane functions and wanting to wash away the grit and responsibility of their everyday lives, somehow it seems to remind him of his above-average purpose, reminding himself that he has a passion he can dive into.

Up until a few days, that's what he justified it with. Now, it's a shame he holds that he's going for her and only her.

His laptop is incidental to him now.

Rick checks the clock on the wall next to the sliding glass door out onto the balcony and sees it's just after seven. He's wasted the whole day being lazy in his apartment, it's probably time he gets up and does something to claim the day as a win on the calender. He lifts his sock-clad feet off the coffee table and jumps to his feet, clicking off the TV and stretching out and flexing his shoulders and abdomen. Happy with himself, he climbs in the shower, takes a quick scolding hot shower to rinse himself off, gets dressed in a pair of darker blue jeans and a dark blue v-necked sweater.

After a quick twenty minutes, he's pulling his shoulder bag over his head and heading out the door.

He hopes she's working tonight. He doesn't like being this honest with himself and thinking that if she isn't working tonight, the whole purpose of him going to the Haunt at all will be lost and if he does decide to write while he's there, it will be the work he doesn't want to turn it into. His whole career rides on his writing being as authentic as possible to grab the readers and keep them hooked for years to come. And if she's not there... he can't let his disappointment show in his work.

Rick makes his way as quickly as he can through town to the bar and tries to wrangle in his excitement bubbling in his stomach while pulling open the door. He stays in the doorway and scans the bar, seeing Mick pouring pull the cap off an IPA in a dark bottle and puts it along side two other glasses onto a tray. His heart squeezes, feeling as if it's pulling the air from his lungs just to keep from shriveling up with nerves when he sees the tray being prepared.

His breath catches in his throat when she steps out from behind one of the support columns. His stomach explodes into a swarm of butterflies as her features step into light, her shoulder length hair tied back into a small ponytail with a pair of bangs framing her face, coming down and accentuating her perfect cheekbones. She's wearing a loose-fitting dark green cotton polo shirt with a golden emblem in the left-hand corner and black slacks.

Tony must've gotten her work uniform in.

She doesn't notice him and simply grabs the tray from the bar and quickly moves to the other end of the bar. Rick clears his throat, runs his fingers through the freezing dampness left over from his shower and frozen from the weather, snaps at the ends of his wool raincoat, and rolls his neck. He looks over to his regular booth and quickly slides inside, careful not to look through the bar, fearing she might catch him looking for her. He doesn't want to see overly interested... if he hasn't already.

Something about her... if she was just beautiful, he probably could have managed to get it out of his system by now. But she's intelligent, she's quick, she's real. Rick quickly slides into the middle of his booth and sets his shoulder bag down next to him, digging out his laptop and setting it down in front of him. This is the feeling he wants to get out of his writing. Knowing people like her, real people, read his work and get something out of it good or bad, it's why he's passionate as he is about his art.

And the crinkle in her nose when she thought up that fib as to how she knew his name was adorable. He wasn't on board with Gina and his mother acting as co-conspirators to put him up on the auction block to half of Manhattan and he still isn't. His interview with the journalist from the Post is on Monday and he really doesn't want to go through with it, but it's for publicity for the book, so it might help. Maybe he could do it here.

Rick is pressing the power button on his laptop when he sees a glass of scotch being set down on the table in front of him, three ice cubes sitting inside, with a folded up piece of paper being used as a coaster instead of a dark green napkin as usual. The paper's edge is ripped and frayed, as if it's been torn from a book. It catches his attention and he knits his brow curiously. When he looks up, his heart freezes and drops like a stone into his stomach at the cold glare she's sending down to him. With lidded hazel eyes and her lips in a thin pout, she's totally silent and slowly takes her hand off the rim of the glass and quickly turns around and heads back to the bar.

His entire system feels like it's crashing in on him with a tremor running up his spine and a cold sweat running over his skin. He shakes his head to clear his mind and quickly reaches over, pulling the glass up off the paper, the ice clacking together inside. He sets the glass off to the side, takes the paper, and unfolds it.

It's the title page of When It Comes To Slaughter, a familiar looking pen stroke at the bottom. _Word of advice: smile more. I'll leave bigger tips that way. ~ Rick Castle._

Realizing what the cold, angry stare is all about, the breath is drawn out of his lungs. He never meant to make her angry. He can usually take rejection pretty well. But for a reason he can't fathom just yet, the thought of his actions making her anything other than happy or slightly annoyed from friendly banter like they enjoyed the night before makes him sick to his stomach.

Rick shakes his head forcefully and squeezes his eyes shut, folding the page back up and setting it down out of sight, taking a quick, large shot from his drink. He gambles a look up to the bar and sees her at the register, entering in orders and tab amounts with a cold, faraway stare. His next look is to the other tables and booths. It's a bit more crowded than normal and she's clearly busy. He tries to fix this now, he'll end up making himself look more like a fool than he feels like right now. Rick clears his throat and sets his expression to a stern, focused eye staring into the screen of his laptop.

With sentence after sentence being laid down of the rewritten story, he manages to kill an hour, and another hour after he gets up to use the restroom. She was noticeably absent of her station when he got up to move through the bar, but she was back at the register when he came out. He closed his laptop when he got back and has been spitballing ideas off of a yellow-paged notepad for the past two hours.

The bar is mostly empty save for another couple of business women at a table in the center of the bar chatting about nothing over two refilling martinis.

"Hey, Kate?" He hears Mick call out.

Rick's stomach coils when he hears her name, only to prepare himself to hear her voice again. Right now, he has two choices, somehow break this paranoid hold she has on him or give into it.

"Yeah?" She calls out across the bar from the back. His spine vibrates and Rick focuses his eyes down into the page of meaningless scribbles.

His eyes glance up only once despite everything telling him not to and sees her quickly move across the back of the bar and over to Micky, the bartender. "I've got my kids all week, so I've gotta take off early. Think you can handle locking up?"

"Sure," Kate says. "One AM?"

Rick twists his wrist and looks at his watch, seeing he has just over three and a half hours and an almost empty bar to work with. "Thanks, you're a life saver." Mick says and quickly darts out the door.

If ever he was handed a chance on a silver platter, it was now. Rick draws in a deep breath and reaches into his bag, pulling out a paperback copy of his newest book and climbs out of the booth. He nervously drums his fingers against the cover in an ill-tempo beat as he approaches the bar, where she has a large study pamphlet open in front of her. He slowly approaches her and meets her silence toward him by silence of his own and sets the book down to the bar and slides it toward her.

He leans against the bar between two stools and watches as her eyes flick up from her study material. She looks at it for only a second before looking back down to her pamphlet. "What do you want?" She asks in a low voice.

"I figured you'd need a replacement." He says in a casual, friendly tone, taking a pause to see if she'd respond. He continues when she doesn't. "Since you're ripping pages out and everything."

Kate sighs harshly through her nose, as if she's venting and keeps her eyes down to her studies.

"I've always tried to evoke some emotion with my work, but I didn't realize I was able to make people rip out pages. Do people do that often?" He asks quickly after another long moment of pause.

Kate straightens back up but doesn't move away from her study pamphlet in front of her. "I have to get back to work, Rick."

Rick purses his lips, "Uh..." he moans in curiosity and looks around the bar, finding it completely empty except for them. He turns back to her after scanning the empty tables and then turns back to her, seeing her staring out to the empty tables with him in a hard, nervous stare. "Busy night?"

Kate breathes a small sigh and looks back down, "If you want a drink, let me know, otherwise-"

"Did I do something to upset you?" He speaks over her.

It's then that her hand slams the pamphlet closed and she finally looks him straight in the eye with a hard glare. "Smile more?!" She asks incredulously, her brow raised.

Rick pauses, lips pursed and brow pinched. "Well, you _are_ in the service industry." He defends his remark.

"Gah..." She groans and pouts out an expression of disgust and turns away from him. "You have any idea how degrading that sounds?"

Rick has to chuckle at that, smiling brightly as he leans against one elbow and waves his hand at her. "Please..." he says on a laugh, "I've heard far worse from the brain-dead horse flies that are always hitting on you."

"Oh, so you _are_ self-aware." Kate retorts and crosses her arms.

Rick deadpans a stare over to her and limps his hand. "I was _not_... hitting on you, okay?"

"Oh, _please!"_ She says and leans against the bar with her hands out to her sides. There's the smallest semblance of a smile teasing the edge of her lips as she slacks her jaw in a surprised guffaw. "You've been asking for my number for three days."

"Actually," Rick lifts his finger, "I only asked for it once, if you recall. And getting your number wasn't even my real goal."

"Yeah? Then what was, huh?" She challenges him.

"To get you to laugh."

Kate scoffs and rolls her eyes as she shoves off the bar, moving down a couple feet to grab a glass from below the bar. "I take it that an apology would be too much to ask of you then."

Rick chuckles as he folds his arms underneath him and leans over the bar a bit further. "Well, that wouldn't be too honest."

"And why's that?" She asks, pouring a glass of sparkling water out of a green plastic bottle and lifting it to her lips.

"Because I'd have to be sorry first." He shrugs.

"And you're not sorry for telling me to _smile_ more?" She demands, waving her glass in the air.

"Not when you have a smile as pulchritudinous as yours, no." He cocks his brow.

Kate lifts her brow up and smirks. "As what?"

Rick smirks charmingly at her. After a moment of staring at each other, Kate scoffs again while shaking her head and takes a drink from her glass. Rick looks down to the book he'd set down in front of her and taps his fingers against it. "So, what'd you think?"

Kate sucks at her top lip with her tongue when she's finished drinking. "Don't you get reviews from the papers?"

"Sure, but those people get paid to read my work. They have an interest in keeping me writing. I like to hear from my actual readers every once in a while." Rick shrugs his shoulders.

Kate comes back to stand in front of him and lean against the bar. "So, is that what you do then? Go around looking for your fans and ask them what they thought of your books?"

"Just you." He says with a small motion of his head off to the side, catching her off guard at such a direct statement of meaning. "So, what'd you think?" He asks again in a higher inflection.

Kate nods slowly and looks down to the book. She got mad when she saw the note last night. And luckily, Lanie was already gone for the day when she woke up this morning so she was able to avoid the scent of nervousness Rick left on her. She got over it enough to actually start the book and get a few chapters in before she had to leave for her last shift until Tuesday, but it came bubbling back when she got herself mentally prepared to see him again. Lord if he didn't give her a run for her money.

He's just not like other guys.

* * *

"And how'd they respond?" She asks on a chuckle.

"They uh..." Rick hesitates as his finger traces the rim of the glass of scotch in front of him on the table, "they laughed in my face and told me to go back watching Law and Order."

Kate lets her jaw fall, "They did not."

Rick nods and wags his finger at her before picking up his glass. "Exact quote from the detective."

"Well," She shrugs, "you were asking to see the case files of an ongoing serial murder, Rick. Did you really think they'd just let you waltz in and see the evidence for a box of donuts?"

"They were glazed!"

"You know, that's almost as insulting as your 'smile more' comment." She says with a smile. "You should know that cops aren't allowed to discuss ongoing criminal investigations."

"No, I knew that, but it's not like I was going to use anyone's real name or anything. And besides, I offered them the profile I'd made on the guy." He waves his hand after setting his glass down.

"You made a profile on the guy? Since when do you have formal training on criminal profiling?"

"Since never, but what I _do_ have is formal training in character building." He says, moving his head off to the side in cockiness. "And seven best sellers experience to prove it. Well," he says, pointing over to the bar where the new copy of his newest release sits, unattended to, "eight if people stop ripping pages out of their books and actually read them."

"Okay," She says, flicking her bangs aside, "so you built a character on this Triple Killer guy." Rick nods. "What was it?"

"Well," Rick starts and leans forward to readjust himself, making Kate's breath hitch in her throat when he comes inches away from her face, "all the victims were relatively young, all women, and all blonde, right?"

"Right."

"In writing, that's what we call a motif." He says, realizing by Kate's very present look in her beautiful hazel eyes that she's entrenched in every word. "A theme in the story that keeps itself present in the story arch to serve an underlying purpose in a character's bildungsroman, if you want to get technical."

"Right, he wouldn't go out of his way to only kill blondes if it didn't mean something to him." Kate says simply.

"So, as a writer," Rick says, motioning to himself, "what I would have to do take that motif and figure out how to use it to develope a character. Kind of like using blueprints to build a house without any of the measurements."

Kate is entranced completely in what he's telling her. It's so exciting, she's forgetting herself. "So what'd you come up with?"

Rick takes the last bit of scotch down his throat and sets his glass back down and folds his arms back under his chest as he leans forward. "The obvious answer."

"Which is?"

"He was raised by a single mother." He shrugs casually.

Kate pauses and feels her brow knit. "So?"

Rick chuckles softly and looks down to the table. After a moment, he looks back up to her with a quirk in his brow and a smirk. "Take it from a guy who knows a thing or two about being raised by a single mother, it matters."

"Well, I'm sorry if I was raised in a regular nuclear family, Rick." She defends her ignorance. Rick disengages her by lifting his hand to her and folding it back between his arms against his chest. "So... why's he killing blondes?"

"If I had to write the character's story?" Rick asks and let's his eyes glaze over as his mind drifts into itself. "She was a beautiful woman, in her own right. She had an easy life getting by on her looks. She never wanted for anything that wasn't soon given to her, gifts thrown at her feet by gentlemen callers just to make sure she never frowned. Her age worked against her, sure, but... not as much as he did. He was her curse. A thief. A selfish robber of her beauty, of her age, of that long list of wealthy suitors waiting by the phone. Every time she saw him, all she saw was her life being slowly widdled away. She never wanted him. And he grew up not knowing which was worse; not being loved by your own mother... or loving her despite it because she's all you had."

Kate feels her heart squeeze as that deep tenor his voice has pulls her into the story. It's what makes his books so good, the deep insight that the characters seem to be worked with by the author.

Rick looks back up to her as a silence falls over them, seeing her brow softly arched and her lips turn out in a soft pout. "It's good, right?" He brags as his eyes narrow and his smile brightens.

She's broken out of her trance by his braggadociousness. "You had me going until you decided to ruin it."

"You could always just read the book, you know." He wags his brow and lifts his glass up to his lips.

"I started it after I got over your stupid ploy to hit on me in that note you left." She gives him an obvious expression.

"I thought I told you already, I wasn't hitting on you."

"You weren't hitting on me?"

"Of course not." He shrugs.

"I know when I'm being hit on, Rick." She says and points to herself, then points at him, poking him in the forearm. " _You..._ were hitting on me."

"Hitting on you implies my goal was just to get you to sleep with me."

Kate lets out a loud chuckle in his face, "Right. So you were hitting on me."

"I wanted a date, alright? I wanted to get to know you a little bit."

"You _just_ wanted to get to know me?" She tucks in the corners of her lips and raises her brow. "So you don't want to sleep with me?"

Rick draws in a breath to answer, but stops it just before his voice leaves his throat and closes his mouth, putting his finger over his lips. "You're going to get mad no matter what I say, aren't you?"

She deadpans him an annoyed stare before lifting her glass back up to her lips and taking a small drink. "I'm sorry, Mr. Castle, but I'll have to decline." She says casually, not putting seriousness in her tone because she doesn't want to give him a reason to leave... just yet.

His brow pinches slightly. "Ignoring the fact I never actually asked you, I'm going to go ahead and ask why."

Kate sucks on her top teeth and sets her glass back down. "I'm just not really in a place where my life could accommodate a relationship, that's all."

"But you're waitressing in a bar." Rick shakes his head.

"That's not what I'm talking about and it's only temporary."

"Well, what _are_ you talking about? Is it family troubles? Stalker ex-boyfriend? I know some people that could take care of it."

Kate waves her hand at him. "That wasn't a signal for you to dive in head first, Rick."

"Come on, Kate. Give me something. We've been talking for three hours. We're practically on a date right now."

Kate chuckles dismissively. "Don't try to pull that purple elephant crap, okay? All you've been doing is keeping me company until I had to lock up." She says and looks over to the clock on the wall. "Crap, which I was supposed to do forty-five minutes ago." She says and jumps from the chair at the table. "And besides," She continues as she moves around the bar and starts to turn everything off, "on a date, you buy me dinner."

Rick takes the small bowl from the table and slides off the chair. "We finished the peanuts. That count?"

Kate stops a few feet away and gives him another deadpan stare before lifting her hand up to the exit. "Goodnight, Rick."

* * *

 _A/N: I like writing C &B in this story. It's fun. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

She thought she was going to end up having to crawl through the night at work. The first few hours went by slowly and she didn't make hardly anything in tips. But she lost track of time talking. She was still mad at him about that sleazy note he left her when he came in and even when he came over. She knows full well the reason why she got as mad as she did, but she doesn't want to admit that she was starting to think that he wasn't like every other sleazeball that wants to sleep with her. She didn't want him to be like that, but she can't bring herself to be glad that she was wrong.

Reading his stupid note probably got her more mad at herself than it did him.

Maybe he just didn't know what he was saying. Maybe he did just say it as a joke, just a terrible one.

After the chairs are all put up on the tables and the lights are turned off, she's spent another twenty minutes in the bar alone after she had to send him out. She should probably check on her dad again before going home. She could just head over in the morning, she's off until Tuesday, after all. But he was looking in poor shape the last time she checked on him. If anything, she could just stay the night in her room and see him in the morning. She'd like to get a chance to talk to him if he's actually there at all.

Once most everything is shut off, she locks the door on her way out and heads up the stairs and down the street toward home. Clutching onto her self-defense pepper spray keychain in her pocket, she quickly makes her way through the icy cold of mid-January. She hopes she won't get in any sort of trouble for locking up as late as she did. Her boss seems impressed with her work ethic, she doesn't want to mess it up by getting in trouble for locking up late because she lost track of time talking with a customer who spent three hours talking to her.

She could always just ask him to take the blame like he did the first time.

Talking to him was just easier than it is with other guys. She's had serious boyfriends before, never been overly physical relationships, but serious enough. He doesn't act overeager to impress her with bravado or ego. Most of the time spent talking to him, granted, was mostly about him, but only because she would ask. If not asking about stories of him getting into trouble trying to do research for a book, it was just banter. She's always hated banter with her old boyfriends from high school. She always thought it was just them talking because they thought they had to fill silence with stupidly thought out conversation.

With him, it was just... natural.

But as she pulls open the front door to their building and steps in out of the cold, she steels herself. Every time she walks through the lobby of their building, or goes down the hallway to their door, she's reminded of why she steels herself like this, why she's as guarded as she is, why she can't afford to be distracted by something as complicated as a relationship right now. She has a promise to fulfill. She has a duty to start. She has a responsibility that she doesn't have the choice to turn away from. She's on this path for a reason and that reason is too important to toss away.

He's a really, really good-looking guy who's probably wealthy, famous, and is probably already in a couple of purely physical relationships as it is. Or maybe he's just in between Swedish runway models. He's probably a fun guy and admittedly, talking to him made the otherwise very slow night go by quickly. Why a guy like him, as outgoing as he seems, decides to spend his time in the back corner booth of a basement level bar, is probably a bad sign. No matter what it is, it's not an option. She just can't.

She resigns to her fate, sealed almost three years ago now, and takes her keys out.

The first thing she notices when she unlocks the door is that the lights are still on. It's quiet inside, so it's not like he just fell asleep right as he got home and woke up at some weird hour. It's two-thirty in the morning. When she steps inside and scans the living room, the sees the cushions of the couch are skewed and crocked. Kate pushes out a shaky, depressed sigh as she closes the door behind her. It's been bad ever since she's been gone, but it's gotten worse ever since she took early graduation this last semester.

Kate starts making her way into the kitchen off to the left with a cold hopelessness that only gets worse when she sees some of the cupboards open and the counter strewn and littered with glasses, all clean as if he was just looking to make a mess. She grits her teeth and turns around to make her way down the hallway. Once she passes her door, she notices the picture tacked up on the left wall opposite her bedroom door is crocked. She feels her stomach start to knot nervously as she continues down the hall.

The door at the end of the hall, the master bedroom, is ajar and on the floor of the doorway, is a familiar picture frame. Her breath stops in her throat when she sees it and moves to pick it up, suffocating her lungs as she does. With a weak, trembling hand, she reaches down and picks up the frame and turns it over, seeing the glass cracked and splintered, making her face under it unseeable. She finally is able to release a shaky breath and feels her eyes burn. He's never done this before.

She reaches up and pushes open the door, but feels her entire body freeze when she spots blood on the floor.

* * *

Rick pushes out a tired sigh as his finger jams into the button on the vending machine. The spout hisses and sputters after a few seconds and the coffee falls into the bottom of the styrofoam cup. He knows it's going to taste like crap, but doesn't really care. He's tired.

His balance shifts backward and forwards as he stands in front of the coffee machine waiting for it to finish, his eyes listful and heavy. He barely got any sleep last night. He got home later than he usually does and was kept up all night with thoughts of Kate. She's consuming him alive. He's never been able to talk to anyone that easily. He's never been able to make light of himself like that with anyone, telling her embarrassing stories of him trying to get research material for his novels, or him making a fool of himself in front of classmates when he was in school.

She didn't seem to mind. She actually seemed to enjoy it. He could be himself around her.

The vending machine finally finishes with his coffee and he reaches over and takes the cup, taking a lid from the dispenser on the machine's side, pushing it on top. Stuck at the hospital waiting for his mother to finish her physical has been nothing short of torture. Why the doctor could only see her on a Sunday, he'll never know. Something about the insurance needing it done by a certain deadline and this being the only time her doctor could see her. And his mother is not bothered at all to remind him how annoyed she is to have to deal with this on her one day off, let alone have to deal with it at all.

He takes it as a blessing that she's been so worked up complaining about having to visit her doctor at the hospital that she seems to have totally forgotten about acting as an auctioneer for her own son. That's a great way to start off becoming one of New York's most eligible bachelors, telling everyone it was your mother's idea. His mother has taken part in his life as much as she could, circumstances notwithstanding. A neglectful childhood, but she was there when it counted. She never inserted herself into his love life much at all unless he was clearly in trouble. Now, he can't seem to get her out.

He hasn't told her about Kate. She said she doesn't want a relationship, or can't handle having one right now. She never did say why, but he's heard that before. She probably means one of two things, either she already has someone and just doesn't want to tell him, or she doesn't have anyone and just doesn't want him. And if it's because of that stupid note he wrote her, he might end up worse off than after Kyra left... and he was in poor shape after that.

It was just a stupid note. He never meant it to come off that way. He wrote it in a haste to try and be funny. If he actually managed to inadvertently paint himself as that kind of guy, he'll probably have to talk himself out of throwing himself off the Washington bridge... again.

He likes to think she forgot about it the more they talked, or at least got over it. But if he's wrong and he actually already managed to blow his chances with her out of the water... god, what the hell was he thinking.

Shaking his head in a sad, heavy, depressed shake, he lifts his cup to take a sip until he hears the door behind him open. "Richard?"

He turns lethargically and sees his mother step out of her doctor's office with a stack of papers in her hand, her large dark purple leather purse hanging from the other. "Ready?"

"Ugh..." She sighs with an eye roll, "finally. These doctors, they just don't listen." She says while waving the papers in the air as they fall into step with each other to move down the hall.

"They probably feel the same way about their patients." Rick mutters as he looks down to the papers she's waving around. "What's all this?" He asks as he takes the papers from her.

"Oh, it's preposterous." Martha waves both hands at the stack of papers. "They tried to tell me I have high blood pressure, but I told them it was nothing."

"Yes, and they gave you a prescription." Rick says, pulling out a smaller paper from the stack. "You know, Mother, I was hoping not to have to deal with having to force you to take medication until you were much older. I'm not going to have to start now, am I?"

"Oh, Richard!" She says and takes the papers away from him. "I take care of myself just fine, which is more than I can say for you." She wacks him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand as they make their way through the hospital. "You look exhausted, dear."

"I just had a late night is all." He shrugs, moving his cup of coffee around in front of him as he tugs on the lining of his pocket with the other hand.

"You've been at that club all night again, haven't you?" She scolds.

"Mother, the Old Haunt is not a club. You know I don't like clubs."

"It is the same thing, Richard, and you're never going to meet anyone hiding out in that booth every night." Rick decides to let that comment slide, deciding it's best to just stay silent and drag his feet down the hallway of the hospital. "Your new publicist and I have been talking and we just-"

"Ah," Rick stops her, nodding his head, "yes, you and Gina conspiring to get half of Manhattan after the novelist with nothing better to do with his money."

"Now, Richard, you have much more going for you than that and you know it. You are bright, you are empathetic, you are sensitive, you are generous."

Rick rolls his eyes to himself. "Said his mother."

"Richard, be realistic, would you please?"

"I am being realistic, Mother." He defends himself, giving her a stern look. "I don't want someone after me because some reporter writes a few lines of a bio and a picture of me in the paper. Call me a hopeless romantic, call it setting my sights too high, but I want someone real. And it's things like you setting me up for these kinds of things that make me think I'm just not cut out for real."

"You are using self-deprecation as a defense mechanism, Richard. You're better than that." His mother tells him in a singsong voice.

"I'd just..." Rick struggles and looks back down to the floor. "I'd just much rather fail at getting someone real," _like Kate,_ "than succeed at finding someone that I know isn't right, okay? I'll do this interview tomorrow for the sake of my career, but don't expect anything more out of it than that. And if I'm lucky, I'll stop myself from doing anything I can't take back that will ruin my writing career."

Rick feels his mother rub his arm soothingly as they head down the hall and enter into a waiting room. All the progress he made with her last night, he still feels it was a failure, that he ruined everything just because he wasn't thinking. If he hadn't left that stupid note, maybe she would have agreed to a date. With another depressed sigh, Rick lifts his cup again to try to take the first sip of his coffee, but stops when he spots someone in the far corner of the waiting room.

Rick slows to a stop when he looks over the crowd of people, over to the woman in black slacks and a dark blue jacket draped over herself, her head leaned back uncomfortably against the wall and her eyes closed. "Kate?" He asks himself quietly.

"Richard?" His mother asks him as she gets ahead of him a few steps. "Richard, are you coming?" She asks him, trying to get his attention as she heads for the exit.

"Uh..." he starts and tears his eyes away from her to look at his mother, "I'll catch up, I just need to take care of something really quick."

Martha is slow to nod, but she agrees. "I'll go get us a cab then."

Rick nods and doesn't bother waiting until she's out the door to head through the rows of chairs and over to the corner of the waiting room. As her gorgeous features become clear, she looks exhausted. He's only ever seen her so well groomed and put together, seeing her like this is almost as heartbreaking as having to deal with her soft rejection. She has deep, dark bags under her eyes, her makeup is worn and her sleeping eyes look puffy, her hair, still tied back into a low, short ponytail and her bangs hanging in front of her face look frizzy.

Rick takes a seat next to her is scared to death to bother her. "Kate?" He tries, the small bits of confidence in him retreating into the pits of his stomach. When she doesn't even budge, he decides to through caution to the wind and reaches down, putting his hand on her knee and softly shaking her. "Kate."

She jolts, snapping upright and gasping once her eyes open. The jacket draped over her falls and he sees she's still in her work uniform from the night before. Rick's heart squeezes painfully in his chest as she takes a moment to look around and get her bearings. After a few seconds, she pushes her hair back and presses her hand into her forehead, then looks over to him, turned toward her as he leans forward in the chair next to her.

"Rick?" She rasps in a tired voice. "What're you doing here?" She asks him in the same tired, raspy voice and adjusts herself in her chair, pulling the jacket off of herself.

"I-I uh..." he starts nervously, not sure where they stand, "my mother had a physical today. She had to get on my insurance."

Kate sighs a long, tired sigh as she leans back in her chair.

"Uh..." Rick hums before looking down to the cup in his hands. "Here," he says, handing her the cup, "you look like you could use this."

Kate looks down to the cup and waves her hand at him. "No, no I don't drink coffee."

"Okay," he nods casually and takes the cup back. "You're not going to be mad if I ask what you're doing here in your work uniform, are you? Is everything okay?" He asks, honestly concerned for her.

Kate's tired, baggy eyes look straight ahead as she pushes herself upright in her chair using the arms, "It's none of your business, Rick. Don't worry about it."

"I never said it was any of my business. I just asked if everything was okay. You look awful."

She scoffs loudly and seems to smile jokingly, rolling her eyes. "First the smile more comment, now you're telling me I look awful. You're a real charmer, you know that?"

Ignoring the painful, gut-wrenching twist in his gut at her opinion of him, he tries his best to hide it. "I meant you look tired. Did you sleep here last night?"

Kate leans forward and puts her face in her hands. "I had to, I didn't have a choice."

"What happened?" Rick asks, not wanting to think he has the right to ask, but also not wanting to miss the chance if she's even giving him one.

She lets out a small breath and pushes herself upright. "It's just my dad, okay? He hurt himself last night. Now, I have to go and check if there's any news, so..." She trails off and quickly starts to move toward the reception desk, leaving her thick blue jacket behind.

"Kate," He calls after her, standing up and grabbing the jacket, "wait."

She stops once she's passed the first row of chairs and turns back around, her tired and worn features looking over at him with an arched brow and sad, scared eyes. "What?"

"Y-you uh..." He hesitates, the same fear of her judgment paralyzing him as it did the night before, "you forgot your jacket."

After a moment, her shoulders deflate and she takes a slow step forward, taking the jacket from him. "Thanks." She nods, looking him in the eye for a brief pause before turning back around and moving back down the hallway, through a door that he isn't allowed to go through.

With a heavy rock sitting in his stomach, he looks over to the reception desk. She's special. He's not going to ask what she's going through, but she shouldn't have to go through it without any help.

Rick steps toward the reception desk, getting the attention of the nurse behind the computer. "Can I help you, Sir?"

He smiles and drums his fingers against the surface of the counter. "Can you point me in the direction of the billing department, please?"

* * *

 _A/N: Okay, I really didn't think I'd have to address this, and really don't want to, but I feel I have no choice at this point if this story is going to continue without me having to point it out in the story any more than I already have._

 _I really didn't intend Castle to come off as a "sexist male chauvinist only wanting to put his meat hook into her" that I'm being told he is. And if I'm being honest, that one little comment is nothing compared to the stuff he said and actually DID in the show itself the first two seasons. I don't know if it's the same anon reviewer or what, but if the overall vibe Castle is throwing off is that of a sex-crazed caveman, I'll probably delete the story and go on to other ideas I have in mind. The whole 'smile more' line, wasn't really meant to be taken that seriously, and wasn't meant to trigger that much response. It was supposed to be a bit benign. I got some traction out of it in the story, and got a bit more out of it in this chapter, but if this version of Castle is being read as a sexist pig like I'm being told he is, this story isn't going to last much longer._

 _Let me know, because I hate I'm being told this._


	7. Chapter 7

He hasn't looked at her for an hour. Just a solid hour of avoiding her eyes to the best of his ability by turning his head in the opposite direction, like an obstinate child. She hasn't prodded him yet, but she's getting fed up with this. Up until recently, she could make the argument that she was at least functioning. Ever since the decision was made final by her announcing to him that she was signing up for the academy once enrollment started up in the fall, she's had this fear.

She misses her too, but she doesn't have the luxury of letting her life fall apart.

His skin is sickly pale and he still hasn't shaved, probably hasn't showered. In a light blue hospital gown, laying in a hospital bed in urgent care waiting for word from the doctor with a large bandage wrapped around his left forearm and several cuts on his face, her father has all but lost his Superman status that he had when she was a little girl. He was a great dad when she was growing up. Now, he's been reduced to this.

But there's a disconnect inside of her. Whether it's because she can't afford to be hurt because of this or just incapable of it, she feels all of this simply bounce off of her, off a wall she feels building itself around her heart. A shield forged by events like this, by a steadfast determination to get through it.

"Do I have to move back home now?" She breaks the thick silence as she paces back and forth by his bedside, still in her work uniform.

"I'm fine." He spits in a harsh voice, hoarse and scratchy.

"You're in the hospital, Dad. You want to tell me again that you're fine?" She emotionlessly scolds him.

"It was an accident, Katie." He says, adjusting himself in the bed.

"And I suppose it was an accident that Mom's picture got tossed against the wall?" She sees his eyes flick over in her direction but it doesn't gain her any more than that as he turns back to stare in the other direction as his daughter. Kate pushes out a long sigh and stops pacing, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. "I miss her too, Dad. But you can't just-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do." He spits, turning his head toward her but still not giving her the courtesy of looking at her. Kate stops, not wanting to deal with this but having no choice. "I'm an adult, Katie. You don't have to baby me."

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't acting like one, Dad. It's not enough I had to find you passed out in your own blood. The doctor says you could have _died,_ Dad. I can't-"

"I'm _fine!"_ He spits, finally turning in bed to send her an angry stare.

She's not getting through to him. It's pointless. She rolls her eyes and turns away from him, pacing in the opposite direction. It's then that the doctor appears from behind the pale blue curtain with a metal clipboard in his hand, an older man with well-groomed white hair. A man looking as put together as her father used to be. "Mr. Beckett, how're you feeling?" He asks, coming around to his bedside to in between him and his daughter to check his readings.

"I just want to go home."

The doctor nods and takes a few quick notes on his clipboard. "We should be able to discharge you today without a problem." The doctor says and lets his clipboard hang from his hands in front of him. "I'd like to make an appointment to see how you're doing next week if it's at all possible." Kate looks over the doctor's shoulder and sees him give him a simple nod, only made to get the doctor to shut up. "Great, Thursday at two in the afternoon work?"

"Sure," Jim says and looks away.

It's then that the doctor turns to her and lifts his arm to her, lifting his other out to the curtain. "May I have a word?"

Kate nods silently and moves through the curtain, waiting for the doctor as he moves through the curtain behind her. "I'm sorry for his behavior, Doctor."

"It's alright, miss." The doctor says with a small smile. "I can give you a number to some rehab facilities if you want."

"I've tried," Kate says with a shake of her head, "he won't stay committed to it."

"We can set you up with some great counselors if you two want to sit down and discuss it."

"No, Doctor, I appreciate your concern," Kate lifts her hand to him, "but if you don't mind, I'd just like to get the paperwork done so I can take him home. I don't think he'll be in the right mind to get the insurance filled out, so..."

"Actually," the doctor says and lifts a page up from his clipboard, "says here your bill has been taken care of."

Kate gives the doctor a nod before the words register in her brain. Shaking her head and narrowing her eyes, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Uh," the doctor says and looks at another page, "yep, the bill was paid anonymously about an hour ago. Paid in full." Kate feels her nervous heart turn to a stone inside of her throat, even as the doctor looks back up at her with a smile. "Looks like you have a guardian angel."

* * *

The papers crinkle in her hand as she waits for the elevator to reach the seventh floor. Once she feels the elevator slow to a stop, she doesn't wait for the doors to finish opening before squeezing and shimmying her way out into the hallway. Having his address memorized, she quickly turns to the right and storms down the hall, passing two doors before she reaches the one marked with a large, overly decorative number three.

She knocks as hard as her knuckles will allow for, the papers shaking angrily in her hand. She has no time and certainly no patience to care what he's doing this early in the morning. It's Monday morning at eight o'clock and she's beyond furious at him.

She lifts her knuckles and cracks them against the wood in a fifth symphony of anger, just as she hears the floor on the other side of the door creak. There's a pause before she hears the chain being pulled and the deadbolt being turned. The door opens and the instant she sees him, the papers get balled up in her fist.

"Kate." He says, happily surprised. "What are-"

Kate cuts him off by stepping through the door, shoving the papers into his white tanktop clad chest. "Just who the _hell_ do you think you are?!" She shouts.

"What?" He asks, frighteningly cupping his hands to catch the papers she shoved at him. Rick looks up to see her, wearing a pair of loose blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and the same blue jacket he found covering her the morning before, with soiled anger twisting her face together in rage, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "What are you talking about?"

She can feel her heart twinge in her throat as his reaction gets stamped in her mind. She's mindful to keep focused on his eyes, knowing she sees him in a pair of gym shorts and a tight fitting white tank top and even in her peripheral vision, can see the soft definition of his biceps and the curves of his pecs. "What? Was this another ploy to get me to sleep with you?!"

Rick's brow knits intensely at her accusation. "What?" He asks and takes a quick look down to the paper, looking like one of the same forms he'd filled out at the billing center yesterday.

"Come on, you're trying to buy me off, then say you're entitled to have sex with me? Is _that_ it!" She shouts, giving his chest a hard shove, her eyes burning hotly.

"Is _that_ what you think this was?" He asks her, arching his brow desperately, his stomach in knots and his heart convulsing nervously in his throat, holding up the crumpled paper up to her. "Kate, that's why I did it anonymously." He tells her, letting his shoulders deflate.

"Oh, _please!"_ She shouts, taking another step toward him. "Who else do I know is well off enough to pay for a ten thousand dollar medical bill in full, huh?"

"Kate, I didn't-"

"You really think I'm that _stupid?!"_ She spits and takes another step toward him, edging him back into his spacious living room.

"I was just trying to do the right thing. I just wanted to help!" He pleads with her, matching her fiery tone with his own pathetic desperation.

"I don't _need_ your help, okay! So just do me a favor," she says and reaches forward, taking the paper from his weak grasp, crumples it up and tosses it at his chest, "and just _stay_ out of my life!"

She spins around without another word and rushes out the door, not bothering to close it, but he can hear her stomp her day down the hallway. "Kate!" He calls after her, going to the door and leaning out into the hallway, only to see that she's already long gone.

His gut-wrenching in on himself, feeling like he's going to vomit, he closes the door with a slam. What the hell was he thinking? Why wouldn't she take it as another desperate ploy to sleep with her. Did he really think that the hospital would keep the record anonymous? And would it even matter if they did?

In a bout of fury, her reaches over to the bureau and swipes his hand at a small glass vase sitting on top, sending it to the other side of his apartment.

* * *

Rick draws in a cool breath, closing his eyes as he rides the elevator up to the third floor, his hands tucked into the pockets of his wool raincoat. His muscles are twinging with a tick of nervousness, but he wants this settled. He feels bad enough about himself right now as it is, so he knows he can't let it fester for too long. It's Monday nday night around seven o'clock and a quick call to Tony got him what he needed. He was hoping that he could catch her at the Old Haunt and he could just talk to her there, but she was off tonight when he called Tony.

The elevator doors open and he steps out as calmly as he can, making his way down the hall and making a turn to the left when the hallway comes to a tee. He comes to a stop at the first door on the left, taking a pause to gather as much fortitude as he can, breathing in deeply through his nose and letting out in long, deep sighs out through his mouth. Telling himself he can do this would be a useless mantra to give himself confidence he knows he doesn't have right now. But he's raising his hand to give the door a soft knock, nonetheless.

Rick looks down to the floor with his heart lodged nervously in his throat as he hears someone coming to the door. The door opens and he looks up but feels himself jump a bit, scared back with widening eyes at the woman in a pink bath robe, curlers in her hair, a lime green facial mask on her face, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, and a book in her hand.

Rick smiles charmingly at the woman. "Hi."

The woman's eyes widen at him silently, caught in the headlights of his apperance. It's a long silent moment before she raises the book up in front of her, showing him the front cover of When It Comes To Slaughter. Her eyes move between the back cover and him once, then twice, then a third time before her eyes remain glued on him. When she finally looks back at him, he gives her another smile.

The door slams in his face suddenly.

With a sigh, he nods his head. "Hang on a minute! Don't leave!" He hears her call through the door.

Rick looks back down to the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels in a nervous twitch. He hears a bit of commotion inside the apartment, a sink being turned on, and a drawer being opened and slammed, before he hears her come back to the door and open in. He looks up to see her face scrubbed free of the facial mask, the curlers ripped from her hair, the toothbrush gone, and her smiling brightly at him.

"Hi," She says in a breathless voice. "Come in, please! Come on in." She says, ushering him inside.

Rick nervously steps inside the two bedroom apartment, looking around to the meager setting a bit as he hears the door being closed behind him. "I'm uh..." he trials off, seeing the African-American woman step around him with a bright smile, "I'm looking for Kate Beckett? I was told I could find her here."

Lanie keeps smiling nervously over to him, stunned by his very well put together apperance in a black wool raincoat, a dark blue dress shirt, dark denim designer jeans and wingtip shoes, his hair perfectly styled. "Yes!" She exclaims loudly after the words finally register in her brain. "You're looking for Kate. She's my-my roommate. Kate's my roommate. She lives here a-and... and I live here and we-we both live here because she's uh... she's my roommate."

Rick nods along with her, giving her time. "Could I... maybe see her?"

She nods, still maintaining her nervous bright smile and claps her hands together. "Oh, of course, you can see her! I'll go get her for you. She's in her room now, so I'll... I'll go get her because you want to see her. She's my roommate, you know." She raddles off walking backward toward the hallway. She keeps staring at him until she knocks into the corner of the wall. She whips around and corrects her path before turning back around over her shoulder and sending him another bright smile.

Rick nods with another charming smile.

That sends her off running toward a door down the hallway that he can barely see. He watches with his hands tucked into his coat pockets as she opens the door. " _Giiiirl!_ You will not _believe_ -" the door closes and Rick is left in the apartment's living room alone. " _Richard..._ _Castle!"_

" _What!?"_ He can hear her shout through the door. "What is..." he makes out as he looks around.

Rick looks down to the floor, simply waiting to be thrown out. He's flattered that she recognized him, but really, that's why he was so annoyed by Gina and his mother trying to force him out there. He doesn't want to deal with that. Being fawned over and exploited because he's face is out there because he's a best selling author. Kate never looked at him like that. From the moment she spilled those drinks on him, she look at him like a real person.

He sees the door open back up out of the corner of his eye and looks over, seeing her being shoved out. "No, I don't-"

" _Go!"_ He hears her say in a harsh whisper before slamming the door behind her.

Kate, clad in the same jeans she had on this morning and a thin, cotton black t-shirt in bare feet, lets out a frustrated sigh and looks over to him. His smile turns heavy and quickly fades from his face when he meets her eyes.

She cranes her neck as she slowly moves through the apartment toward him, brushing her shoulder length hair behind her ear. "What do you want, Rick?" She asks him in a low voice, not giving him the luxury of looking him in the eye.

Rick feels his stomach churn as he nods. "I wanted to apologize." He says as sinserly as he can, feeling like the low-life she sees him as.

Kate looks up at him, seeing a hint of honest sadness in his handsome features.

"When I saw you at the hospital, I just wanted to help, that's all." He says, shaking his head sadly. Kate's heart quivers in her chest and her throat closes. "I know I overstepped my bounds by doing what I did, and I didn't mean for it to come off as some cheap attempt to buy you. I did it anonymously because I thought you'd take it as... just a nice gesture."

"Well," she says, shifting her weight from side to side and recrossing her arms, "I told you before, I can take care of myself."

"I never meant to imp-" he cuts himself off, not wanting to defend himself. He lets out a harsh breath and stops himself. "You're right. I should've just minded my own business."

Kate nods as his eyes sag down to the floor, looking beaten down.

Rick sighs sighly, draining his lungs of breath before he looks back up to her. "I'm sorry." He says with a heavy shrug of his broad shoulders. "If you want me to, I'll leave and never bother you again, but... I'd like to at least try and make it up to you."

"You're really asking me on a date _now?"_ She accuses him in a soft voice.

"No, this," he says, pulling his hand out of his coat pocket, "this won't be a date. I just want to make this up to you, try and show you that I'm... really not that kind of guy."

"It's kind of hard considering you're asking me out right now."

"This," he says, taking a small step forward, "will just be a night of me taking you somewhere fun. There will be absolutely no expectations from me and at the end of the night, if you decide you never want to see me again, I'll respect that. No pressure, no expectations, you don't even have to talk to me. I just want a chance to make up for..." he trails off, choosing his words, "doing what I did."

Kate lets out a long breath, feeling her muscles turn weak. He looks honestly hurt. "Look, it was..." she tries, feeling nervous telling him this, "a really sweet gesture, okay? And maybe I... reacted a bit more harshly than I should have."

Rick nods, giving her room to answer. "So... is this a yes?"

Kate looks up to him again, "I'm working all weekend."

Rejected, Rick nods and cranes his neck sadly.

"But I'm free Thursday night."

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you SO much for the notes of encouragement. You guys rock! What'd you guys think? :)_


	8. Chapter 8

Kate checks the clock on the microwave and adds six minutes. It's been six minutes slow since they blew a fuse a few weeks ago and haven't bothered changing it. Twenty minutes if he's the type of guy who shows up ten minutes early, forty-five minutes if he's the type of guy to be fashionably late. She has no clue.

About anything.

He didn't tell her where he was taking her, what they were doing, what time she'd be back, nothing. He could be taking her on a private boat tour of Liberty Island, in which case she needs to dress warmly. Or maybe he's taking her to an old movie showing in the Villiage, in which case she'd need to maybe wear a skirt and a light sweater. Could he be taking her to a Broadway show? She has absolutely nothing to wear for that.

" _Ugh!"_ She groans and mimes choking the clothes in the top cabinet of her bureau, wearing only her faded pink bathrobe. She hasn't seen him in the Haunt all week and that's the only way she knows how to get ahold of him other than just going to his door. Otherwise, she would have demanded a little bit more details than he was picking her up at six-thirty.

She shoves some of her everyday clothes apart in the top cabinet of her bureau, seeing only a white blouse and a cotton blue polo shirt when she hears a quick knock on her door. "Come in!" She calls from the other side of her bedroom.

The door opens and Lanie doesn't waste any time. "Ready to tell me yet?"

"No," She says in a quiet, rushed voice as she pushes the blouse over to look one in darker red.

"You've been dodging me all week, girl." Lanie says as she enters Kate's bedroom. "Now I demand you tell me how you got _the_ Richard Castle to ask you out on a date."

"It's not a date, Lanie." Kate says and pushes the dark burgundy blouse aside. "He's just taking me out somewhere."

Lanie pinches her brow and purses her lips, stopping behind Kate a few feet at the foot of her bed, Kate's back still facing her as she digs through her dresser. "On a date."

"It's not a date." She reiterates.

"Is he picking you up?"

"Yes," She answers in the same quiet, monotone, seemingly uninterested and distracted voice.

"Is he paying?"

"As far as I know."

"Is he bringing any of his friends with him?"

"I don't think so."

"This is a date."

"It's not a date, Lanie."

"Then _what_ is it?!" Lanie demands.

"He's just taking me out to apologize for sticking his nose in my business."

"Sticking his nose in-" Lanie parrots, "Girl, this is Richard Castle. He can stick that ruggedly handsome nose of his in any place of mine he pleases."

"Okay, that's gross." Kate says, looking over her shoulder with a cringed expression at her roommate who is standing at the foot of her bed with crossed arms and weight shifted onto one foot. "And besides, just because he's a successful novelist doesn't mean I have to throw all my inhibitions out the window _or_ that I have to allow him to peer into every facet of my personal life."

"What's with you, Kate?" Lanie asks as Kate darts from her dresser over to her closet and slides the door open, looking inside with a frustratingly furrowing brow. "There is a gorgeous writer who I'm sure is well off, well known, _and_ well toned who is into you and you're acting like him taking you out somewhere is a chore."

"Lanie," Kate sighs, pushing and pulling her way through the clothes she doesn't wear that often hidden in her closet, "I grew up with a trust fund. My parents were both lawyers. You'd be surprised how little money and fame impress me."

"Just what is it about this guy that's got you so cynical? What'd he do?"

"Nothing, Lanie." Kate answers as she shoves the clothes in her closet to one side and goes back to her dresser. "He's just a guy who happens to use the bar I work at as his own personal office. I think he's trying to emulate Hemingway err... something."

"And he likes you." Lanie points out as Kate goes back to digging through her dresser for something to wear.

"He's pretty upfront about that information, Lanie."

"Well, do you like him?" Lanie asks on a crossed-arm shrug.

"He's not my type, okay?" Kate asks, the question sending an uncomfortable twinge up her spine.

" _Ha!"_ Lanie belts out. "Come on, girl, get real."

"He's not!" Kate defends herself, turning around with the white blouse hanging on a clothes hanger in her hand. "He's obnoxious and spends more time with his foot in his mouth trying to impress me than any other guy at that bar combined."

"Kate, if this is how you feel about the guy, _why_ are you even going out with him tonight?" Lanie asks the obvious question.

"Because!" She says loudly, as if it would answer Lanie's loaded question and tosses the white blouse onto the surface of her bed. "Even though he went behind my back, what he did was... arguably very sweet. And he can be fun to talk to when he's actually aware of what's coming out of his mouth. And..." Kate stops digging through her dresser for a moment to turn toward Lanie halfway, raising her arms in a soft shrug, "I will admit that he's... objectively attractive."

"Mmhmm," Lanie says with pursed lips, turning slowly on a heel.

"Now, if you don't mind," Kate continues, picking the white blouse up off her bed, "I have to figure out what to wear because he neglected to mention where it is he's taking me."

"Well," Lanie starts in a much less serious tone, "what you need is something neutral yet stylish. Let's see what we've got."

* * *

"Yes, yes, you should." He mantras to himself as he starts up the stone steps of the stoop to her building again. He stops a second step up and jumps back down to the sidewalk. "No, no, you shouldn't. You'd just look stupid." He says to himself as he lets the bouquet fall back down to his side. "After all, you got her to agree to this by saying that it _wasn't_ a date. You bring flowers on a date, not... just taking her out. Flowers are for dates."

A few more people pass by him in their rush to get wherever it is they're going as he shoves a hand through his hair. He's been going back and forth for at least ten minutes, going up and back down the stairs.

"No, you definitely should, Rick." He says to himself and turns back up the stairs, rolling his shoulders back in a show of confidence in himself. "She'll like them. It'll be a good first impression." He says and takes the first two steps. "But what if she doesn't like Tulips?" He asks himself and turns back down the stairs. Once he's back down to the sidewalk, he checks his watch and sees he's already five minutes late. Huffing out a breath, he grits his teeth, clenches his jaw, and jumps up the stairs of the stoop and quickly heads inside, the pink tulips still clutched tightly in his left hand.

He rides the elevator up and heads to her door, dressed in black colored designer jeans, a purple v-neck sweater, and a charcoal pinstriped sport coat. Nervousness making his heart beat unevenly and unfaithful, he raises his hand and wraps his knuckles against the door, clutching the flowers in his right hand down by his side. He waits a moment, rocking back and forth on his heels and looking down to the carpet of the hallway.

The sound of the knob being turned makes him look up and at the last moment, he tosses the bouquet down the hall out of sight just as the door opens. He smiles as charmingly as he can, hiding as much nervousness as he can behind it, and sees her pull the door open. The breath he draws in at the sight of her makes his entire system tighten the more air he takes in.

Her shoulder length brunette hair is tied back into a ponytail and her bangs are curled, hanging over her face. She has just a touch more makeup than what she normally wears at the Haunt, a touch more eye-liner and a bit more blush, in a mid-cut thin deep blue top, a small hood hanging off the back, a pair of tight-fitting tan jeans and black five-inch heeled boots. She's sending him a soft half-smirk as she hangs onto the door.

"Hi," he finally manages in a perked up tone.

Kate nods slightly and lets her hand fall off the door. "Hi," she says back, taking a moment herself to admire the way his hair is styled to mostly slick back with a few rebellious strands flicking out over his forehead appealingly.

Rick nods stiffly, "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Kate says as neutrally as she can, "just let me grab my jacket." Rick nods as Kate disappears for a second, reappearing at the door with a black leather jacket in her hand. She takes the door with her and closes it as she steps out into the hallway with her leather jacket in her hand. "I hope I'm dressed okay."

Rick smiles charmingly again, giving her a reassuring nod. "You look great." He tells her as he starts to fall into step with her moving down the hall.

"Well, you wouldn't tell me where you were taking us, so..." she trails off as she pulls her jacket over her shoulders, "I had to guess."

"I said I'm taking you somewhere fun, Kate."

Kate chuckles and nods as she rounds the corner of the hallway. "Right, okay. So you're taking me somewhere fun."

"Yep."

"Where, Chuck E. Cheese?" She jokes sarcastically.

Rick reaches over and presses the button to call the elevator. "I rented out the party room and everything." He rolls with it. She fights a smile as she steps onto the elevator. "While it's not Chuck E. Cheese, it _is_ going to be fun. We just have to make a quick stop first, if that's okay."

"Sure."

* * *

Catching a cab, Kate tries during the ride to pull details out of him, all the way up until the driver turns onto Broadway.

"Rick, you're _not_ taking me to a play." Kate orders him as Rick keeps drumming his fingers against his chin with a gleeful smirk. "I'm not dressed for that! Come on!" She whines.

"Would you relax?" Rick waves his hand at her. "It's not a play. I just have to take care of something real quick. We can walk to where I'm taking you from here though."

Rick pays the fare as quickly as he can, rushing around to the other side of the taxi to open her door for her. But by the time he rounds the back of the cab, she's already stepping out onto the street and is closing the door behind her, her eyes shining and dancing in the lights of the theater in front of them. Rick feels his heart squeezes intensely inside of his chest at the sight of her, the flickering of the lights making her beauty awe-striking, otherworldly even. He can't get over how beautiful she is.

He's never going to forgive himself if he screws this up as royally as he has in the past.

"I-it's uh..." he stutters, lifting his arm and pointing down an alley, "it's just down here."

Rick puts his hand to the small of her back and guides her through the throng of people rushing up and down the street. Kate feels her heart skip at the light contact, surprised at his closeness as he leads the way through the crowd. He's only lightly touching her as they start down the alley toward the back entrance to the theater and is very mindful to remove his hand once they're in the clear.

"This is where you need to stop?" She asks him, curious.

"Yep, I need to have a call made is all." He shrugs as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. The come up to a door opened on the side of the building, being held open by a large, burly man with a headset on his head. "She in?" Rick asks him.

"She is but she goes on in thirty, Mr. Castle. Might want to make it quick if it's important." The man says to him.

Rick nods and with a smile and quickly leads the way through the door and down the utility hallway of the theater. Not saying another word, Rick walks with a quick pace down the hall, passing dressed up extras, makeup artists, costume staff, and stagehands without a hint of discomfort or anxiousness clouding his stride. She wants to ask how he's so at home in a setting this fast-paced and crowded, but she's too caught up in the beehive air of the setting to notice she's walking closer and closer behind him.

He moves down the hall and passes two more doors before he stops and turns to her. Kate jumps back quickly when he turns, finding him just a few inches away from her. She'd drifted so close to him in the discomfort of the setting, she'd barely noticed the closing distance.

"Follow me but uh..." he hesitates, "hang back a bit. If we're lucky, she won't be her normal self and start asking questions."

Rick turns to go through the door, but Kate latches onto his shoulder in a soft grip, "Wait, who?"

With a deadpan stare, Rick looks out into nowhere as he answers. "My mother." Kate's heart gets lodged in her throat the instant Rick whips open the door and rushes his way inside, leaving her to play catch up a few seconds after. "Mom?" He calls out in the dressing room as the door shuts behind her.

"Richard!" A voice calls from behind a Chinese curtain near the back. Rick quickly turns around to Kate, who's standing at the door, and lifts his hand, telling her to stay put. It's a moment after that that a woman steps out from behind the curtain in a dark purple Victorian-era dress. "I wasn't expecting you tonight." She says and moves through the dressing room over to her son, putting her hands on his shoulders and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Have you finally come to see the show?"

"Actually," Rick says and puts his hands on his mother's forearms still hanging from his shoulders, sure to keep her in a place to where he can act as a barrier between herself and Kate, "I was wondering if you were still friends with Randy."

"Randy? Why, of course. He's a dear friend, Richard. Why?"

"Think you can give him a call for me and get me two seats to his show tonight?"

"Well, it would be a bit last minute, but he owes me a favor or two. I'm sure I could..." his mother trails off in her rambling, takes a pause, and looks back up to her son. " _Two..._ seats?"

Rick smiles down to his mother, narrowing his eyes a bit. "Mom..."

Before he can stop her, her eyes are already moving passed him and are looking at the woman standing at the door, nervously hunched together. The first thing Martha notices, aside from the fact she has very stunning features, is how tightly her son is holding onto her forearms. "Richard," she says in a light voice, turning back to her son, "why, who is-"

"Mom," Rick stops her, hoping to end it before it begins, or at least delay it. The last thing he needs is his own mother scaring Kate away. He's sure it's purely biological imperative that she hasn't scared him away. "Can you call Randy for us, please?" He tells her, knowing she's picking up on his signals.

His mother lifts her brow, silently asking him what he's up to.

' _I'll tell you later,'_ he mouths silently to her before widening his eyes at her and visibly gritting his teeth.

It takes only a second for her to catch on and give him a nod. "Okay, dear," Martha says and lifts her hands off her son's shoulders. "I'll be sure to let Randy's staff know you're on your way."

Rick smiles, "Thank you, Mother."

As quickly as he can while still trying his hardest to maintain his air of having the situation still under his control, he turns back to Kate with a smirk. Kate, having seen the whole ordeal unfold, is both confused yet thankful that he kept his mother at bay. She can tell already she's a bright and vibrant personality, difficult to contain. Kate opens the door behind her and moves out into the hallway, waiting for Rick to join her.

He closes the door behind him and they quickly fall into step as they head back out toward the street. "Did that go like you were expecting it to?" She asks him.

"Actually, much better." Rick sighs thankfully. "I was expecting her to be more forceful in wanting to meet you."

"Is there a reason I didn't get to meet her?" Kate has to ask.

Rick looks over to her with a bit of a smoldering pout and a quirk in his brow. "You said this wasn't a date."

Kate nods with a bit of a smile as they step back out into the alley. "So, can you tell me where you're taking me already?"

Rick smiles as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "You like magic?"

* * *

 _A/N:Chapter was supposed to be their entire 'not-a-date'. But wanted to keep the pace steady. Keep the reviews coming. Let me know what you think? Trying to mix some comedy in here and there, so let me know if you laughed or not. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

"A _magic_ show?!" She exclaims, turning to face him as they keep up with the foot traffic along the strip.

Rick shrugs his broad shoulders with his hands still stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. "It was the most benign thing I could come up with." He defends himself. It's a short distance from where they are to the theater where Randy performs. He sees Kate rolls her eyes, almost impatiently, and turn back to face forward again. "Come on, magic is fun. Don't you like magicians?"

"I don't have a problem with magicians, Rick. It's their shows." Kate explains and balls her fists up in front of her. "They're so _cheesy!"_

"This guy isn't like that." Rick tries in hopes to keep her around, hoping to get a chance to prove himself to her. "He used to work stage effects for a play my mom was in when I was a kid. He used to do magic tricks for me all the time when I had to hang out backstage."

"Give me a break, Rick." Kate says lifting her arms up to him in a slight shrug. "You can't believe that these kinds of people _actually_ possess supernatural abilities, can you?"

"What I _can_ believe, Ms. so-sure-about-everything," he gently jabs back, "is that there are things and forces at work in the universe that humans will never understand. And as a writer, and as a lover of mystery, I can appreciate the beauty in accepting the unknowable. You know, they say that the human brain hasn't evolved much in the past fifty thousand years?" He leans over to her.

"Yeah," She chuckles, "and some a little bit longer." She sasses to him.

"Now's not a time to start putting yourself down, Kate." He rolls with it. "I'm sure if you apply yourself-" She wacks his arm quickly but lightly with the back of her hand. Rick bites back his laughter, only feeling his smile when he looks over to her and sees her fighting one of her own, the corners of her lips tucked in tightly and her eyes narrowed a bit.

He can only imagine how radiant she'd be if she'd just give in to her smile, not fight it like she is now.

Kate's losing her mind. She doesn't know what to do about him. She's tried to put him through the wringer, but he doesn't even seem to be playing the same game. Everything she jabs him, he swerves and she misses the mark entirely. Even what she thinks might be a direct hit, going in for the kill like just now, he comes from the complete opposite direction. Most guys, all other guys she's had interactions with, when she's played this, they've come back exactly like she predicted, with everything they had.

But Rick... it's almost as if she's trying to fight with him while he's trying to dance with her. No ones ever done this with her before.

"You'll at least give it a chance, won't you?" Rick asks after a block of them walking in silence.

"I'll give it a chance, but don't expect me to walk out of there thinking that anything I see is actual magic, okay?"

Rick's getting a bit disheartened, yet ending up liking her more and more the more she battles with him on this. "You've never experienced real magic, have you?"

Kate guffaws at him a bit, "Why is it so important to you for me to believe in all this magic stuff, Rick?"

"Well, I'm taking you to a _magic_ show, Kate." He points out plainly.

"No, come on." She pushes him. "I can tell, there's more to it. Spit it out."

"Because," Rick shrugs his shoulders again, "if you don't believe in at least the _possibility_ of magic... you'll never find it."

"I don't need magic, Rick." Kate says confidently. "I told you before that I can take care of myself... no tricks necessary."

Rick laughs as they approach the theater, a long line of people shuffling their way inside. "Let me guess, you were one of those annoying four-year-olds that didn't believe in Santa Clause because you figured out he couldn't travel faster than the speed of light, weren't you?" He jabs back at her.

"I was three," Kate points out and looks over to him with a soft smile, "and we didn't have a chimney."

Rick's soft, boyish smirk turns into a warm smile as he approaches the ticket booth. Giving the usher his name, they're let inside and told to find seating anywhere they'd like. Rick leads the way into the lobby of the theater, noticing a few passers-by eyeing the woman next to him. Gritting his teeth in jealousy, Rick takes a step closer to Kate, who's standing a couple feet away with her hands clasped calmly in front of her, looking over the decor.

Kate turns, sensing his encroaching presence, and sees him giving her a soft, gentle smirk that makes her heart tense. "Why don't we go up to the balcony? We'll get a better view."

She can smell his cologne from here. The fact he smells alluring, the scent of an ocean air and a hint of what she can only describe to herself as well-read book pages, is making her recheck herself. It's the first time all night she's become aware she feels pulled toward him. "Uh..." she stammers, "sure, that sounds fine."

Rick smiles, his eyes lighting up with pride, and he nods his head off to the side, letting her go ahead of him and up the stairs. Rick's excitement is intertwining with his nervousness in his stomach, making it flop around inside of him. As they climb the stairs together, he can't help but think through all the scenarios as to how the night could end. Could it work out so well that she actually hesitates before he decides to tell her goodnight? That she'd let him kiss her?

Or... could he say something completely stupid and go back to square one?

With Kate in front of him a step or two, Rick forcefully shakes his head to rid himself of what doubt he can and takes the last step of the flight and catches up with her, stepping off to Kate's right side. "Down here?" Rick points to a pair of open seats in the third row down with a direct view of the stage.

Kate looks over to him and gives him a small smile, letting him lead the way. They get to their seats and sit down, Kate sitting down to Rick's left, crossing one leg over the other. The stage is drawn in a velvet curtain and with the house lights still on in the theater, she can see people below them start to find their seats. Kate looks over to him, seeing an excited sparkle in his eyes, his baby blue eyes. He does look pretty cute.

"You're really into this stuff, aren't you?" She asks him as he eagerly smiles down to the stage.

"Aren't you? Come on, I brought you here to have fun." Rick says, looking over to her with an appealing arch in his brow and a smirk. "I need to make up for getting into your business somehow. If you don't have fun tonight, I'll have to think of something else."

"That," Kate starts, lifting her finger to him, "was _not_ the agreement, Mr. Castle." She says to him, lifting her brow. "I agreed to _one_ night."

"Of fun." Rick finishes for her. "The agreement isn't fulfilled until you have one night _of fun._ So if you don't have fun tonight, well then-"

"I'll have fun then." Kate says to him with a soft smile. "Happy?"

Rick meets her eyes with a soft spark and a smile matching it. "Very."

It's then that all the lights begin to dim and the stage is lit up with a blue light and the soft chattering going on in the theater dulls do a soft lul as people begin to shush each other.

" _Ladies and gentlemen,"_ the speakers boom, " _the Amazing... Randy."_

A loud explosion rocks the theater as the curtain drops to the floor, showing a large cloud of smoke in the center of the stage, a man clearly standing with his arms out in a show of flair. Kate rolls her eyes at the spectacle, but feels Rick nudge her arm. The show starts with the usual show of tricks, making things appear out of nowhere, making things disappear into nowhere, tangling things up that shouldn't get tangled and untangling them with no trouble. It goes on for another fifteen minutes until Kate sees them setting up the first real trick.

"Oh!" Rick exclaims quietly to her. "They're going to saw someone in half. Classic." Rick smiles as he sees the trick being set up.

"Rick," Kate whispers to him, "it's a trick. There's nothing magic about it."

"You are just _hellbent_ on not having fun tonight, aren't you?" He jabs her quietly, turning to face her.

"I'm sorry, Rick." She says, waving her arm out to the stage. "My granddad used to own a magic shop in Brooklyn when I was a kid. He taught me how all of this works."

"Okay then, _Detective."_ He challenges her, adjusting himself in his seat to lean closer to her. "Would you like to make a bet on that?"

"A bet? A bet on what?" She grins.

"On whether you know how this next trick works. Since you're so smart and like ruining everyone else's fun and everything."

"Okay, fine." Kate shrugs casually. "What are the terms?"

"If you're wrong... which you are," Rick says to her with a raised brow before looking back up to her with a gentle smile, "you let me buy you dinner after this."

Kate's heart gets caught in her throat. "That... that would make this a real date."

"Do I look worried?" He says in a smug voice.

"O-okay... and if I'm right," Kate starts, "which I will be," she points out, poking him in the forearm, "I'll let you _walk_ me home."

Rick flickers his eyes at her for a moment before extending his hand to her. Kate looks down and slowly puts her hand together with his, giving it a soft shake of agreement. "You're on." Kate's heart skips when his fingers brush down her palm. "Explain away." Rick tells her, leaning back in his chair as they continue to set up for the next trick.

Kate looks down over the balcony and into the audience. "There's a plant in the audience." She tells him confidently. "The magician will call on a volunteer from the audience and it will be her. She'll go up, she'll fold herself up inside the box, and they'll split it in half."

"Psh," Rick waves her off, "if I were to believe this, then I'd-"

"Green dress, black hair, fourth row, seventh seat in from the right." Kate gives him her answer with a grin.

" _And I'll, of course, need a volunteer from the audience."_ The magician says from the stage and as the lights dance and strobe around the room, both Rick and Kate look down to the audience below them, focusing on the woman in the green dress. Another long moment passes by before the magician points out to the audience from the stage and the spotlight hits the woman in the green dress. " _Ah, yes, you, miss!"_

Rick's excited smile falls flat from his face while Kate's turns into a Chesire grin. "Don't worry, Rick." She tells him, reaching over to him and snagging the fabric of his sweater. "It's not _that_ cold out tonight."

* * *

Rick chuckles loudly, "That's not it."

"Oh?" Kate asks, raising her brow at him. "You're telling me that article about you in the Times _wasn't_ your idea?"

"No, it was my new publicist's in league with my mother's idea."

"Oh, give me a break, Rick." She tells him, leaning over and knocking her shoulder together with his playfully, losing all of her burdens and responsibilities near him. "You mean to tell me listing yourself as New York's most eligible bachelor number nine wasn't some ploy to get women?"

"Do I look like the type of guy _that_ desperate for attention?" He asks her, sending a charming smirk her way. But she meets it with a deadpan stare, calling him on it as she tucked one corner of her mouth in and quirks her brow up on one side. "Well, I'm not, alright?" He shrugs. "I only agreed to this new publicity and advertising for the sake of my career. With my new book becoming a series, my agent doesn't want me falling victim to the Sherlock Holmes curse."

Kate's brow pinches. "The what?"

"Everyone knows who Sherlock Holmes is, but no one knows who Sir Authur Conan Doyle is, hence... the Sherlock Holmes curse. In his later years, Doyle actually ended up resenting his character because they became so much more well known than him. And me being a _mystery_ writer, my agent doesn't want that to happen. Paula's been signing me up for every signing and Gala she can find."

"You ever think about writing anything different?" Kate asks, sensing his gloom of hurdling a feat like a series.

Rick looks over to her with a bit of a frown. "Like what?"

Kate shrugs and looks back down the street. "I don't know, like... just something different."

Rick laughs, "Something different. Like what, you want me to write Disney stories or something just as awful?"

Kate has to pout out her lips, trying hard to fight her smile. "And all the sudden you have a problem with Disney stories?"

"No... I've _always_ had a problem with Disney stories. They're so... contrived and unromantic."

"You know, you sound a bit jealous."

"And _you_ sound a bit defensive." Rick points out, giving her a grin. "Don't tell me, Kate." He starts, his shoulders sagging, "Don't tell me that _you_ had a favorite Disney princess."

Kate's fighting her smile more than she ever has before, taking a pause to decide on her defense. "Every little girl had a favorite Disney princess."

Rick laughs loudly and obnoxiously a few times, craning his neck in his hysterics. "It was the songs, wasn't it?"

"All of my friends always fast-forwarded through the songs, I will have you know."

"Okay," Rick says quickly and takes a step ahead of her, turning around to walk backward in front of her. "Why don't we make our bet double or nothing?"

Kate lifts her brow with a smirk, "Still sour that you _lost?"_

"Are you afraid that your losing streak will only last for one round?" Rick challenges.

"Okay," Kate shrugs, "What's the bet this time?"

"If I can guess which Disney princess was your favorite, you let me take you out to dinner." Rich says, still walking backward at her two o'clock. "And if I guess wrong, I'll leave you alone from now on."

His bet sends another uncomfortable twinge up her spine, but she bites it back. "Bit more high stakes, huh?" Rick's only reply is a jump in his brow. "You're on."

Rick nods his head and turns around, falling back into step next to her. He takes a moment before he looks back over to her, taking his hand out of his pocket and pointing at her. "Beauty And The Beast." Kate feels a hot blush flare up her neck and her cheeks, fighting an embarrassed smile as she looks in the opposite direction. "Oh my _god,_ I'm right." He says in a low voice.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with Beauty And The Beast?" She defends herself. "I thought you of all people would understand what a great story it is. She meets this cursed man who's beastly and mean and learns to look underneath it all into his heart and learns to love him for who he truly is."

Rick belts out a loud chuckle, "Yes, all while living in his _giant... castle!"_

Kate rolls her eyes in a wide motion.

"You want me to believe that story, have Belle wake up in a dark cave with a seven-foot-tall wildebeest in the corner, with flees and ticks jumping out of his matted fur, picking bones out of a deer carcass, and have her discover the inner-beauty in _that._ Then I might believe you."

"What got you so cynical all the sudden?" She asks, only somewhat serious as she stops outside of her building.

He slows to a stop and Kate can tell his hardening himself, the fun and playful smirk vanishing from his features in lieu of a stern glare. He turns to her at the bottom of her stoop. "I don't..." he tries, "want to be... used."

Kate's heart swells a bit in her chest at his admission.

Rick cranes his neck for a moment before looking back up to her. "Getting a series on my resume is about to bring me into the kind of wealth that makes it hard for people to see anything else. And call me a hopeless romantic all you want, Ms. Beckett, but I'd just rather find someone who doesn't really care about the giant castle and see if I can get her take my heart before I have to deal with getting it stomped on by the ones that _only_ care about the giant castle."

Kate feels drawn to him, but she feels something pull her back, a dark, nagging memory that's trying to remind her of her path. "But you don't exactly have that giant castle yet... Mr. Castle."

"Which means I don't have that much time left." He admits. "I'm already getting creepy fan mail because of that article."

Kate nods, forcing herself to look down to the ground. "Well, I don't think it's being a hopeless romantic at all, Rick." She says, her eyes giving in and looking back up to him, catching the sad gleam his blue eyes have. She feels herself tense when their eyes lock, getting sucked into him. "T-this is um..." she stutters, "this is usually the part where one of us tries to come up with some excuse to keep talking before I go inside."

Rick smirks, his stomach knotting nervously. "That only happens on a date."

"I know, but..." she starts, turning around and taking a few steps of her stoop before turning back around, "you won the bet."

Rick follows her and stops at the bottom of her stoop, leaning against the railing. "I told you I wasn't going to have any expectations for tonight, Kate." He says in a low, sincere voice. "If you don't want to go out to dinner with me, I'm not going to force you to."

"No, no," she says, raising her hand. "I honor my debts."

Rick feels a smile pull at the corners of his lips, tense and excited. "Well, I..." he starts, taking a single step up, "I'm busy all weekend with signing events."

"And I have shifts at the Haunt all weekend."

"What do you say," Rick says, getting an idea, "we have an early dinner on Sunday? I have a fundraiser to go to that night. We can eat before your shift and I heard about this burger place that just opened up nearby, it's supposed to be pretty good."

Kate feels a warmth engulf her as she smiles softly down at him. "It's a date then."

Rick draws in a thick breath as he fights his smile, not wanting to look as overeager as he feels. "It's a date."

Losing herself completely, Kate feels her actions go autonomous and she feels herself lean down, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the rough stubble along his jaw, brushing her lips against him for a few tender seconds before she pulls back, not thinking in the moment the action was made. "Goodnight, Rick."

Rick watches, frozen in place and his entire body jittery with goosebumps. "Goodnight."

She gets to the door to her building before turning to look over her shoulder at him, giving him a soft smirk before disappearing behind the door. Taking the hallway down to the elevator, she feels completely elated, taken over, warm. Her bottom lip falling in between her teeth and the curled strand of hair hanging down in her face getting twirled on her finger, when she turns to head to the elevator and she looks up, the memory comes flooding back full force.

And in that moment, she's reminded of her path, of her responsibilities and her duties... of her promises.

What did she just do?

* * *

 _A/N: Keep them reviews coming! :)_


	10. Chapter 10

"Yeah?" Her thick Brooklyn accent says over the line.

"What the hell are you doing to me, Paula?" He demands, ruffling the tissue paper from the box around in his hand.

"It's a black tie event, Rick." She answers, as if she's shrugging at him over the phone. "Come on, you've been to black tie events before."

"The last black-tie event I went to was my high school prom, which I had to sneak into due to unforeseen circumstances involving a cow, school property, and my supposed involvement." Rick answers, tossing around another band of straps. "This tux you sent over has like a million pieces." He complains. "What are these stupid snappy things for anyway!"

"Do I sound like the type of person to know how to put a tux on?"

"No, but you sound like the type of person who knows how to get me out of the situation that required my wearing one."

"Not gonna happen, Rick." Paula sasses him. "This is a $1500 per plate fundraiser for homeless shelters. It's great for publicity. Just get the tux on, smile every time you see a flashing light, and be your charming self."

"There better be an open bar at this thing."

"Ruin yourself all you want, Hemmingway, just don't ruin me." The line clicks and Rick tosses the receiver onto the pillows.

The tuxedo is laid out in pieces on the bed and he's just standing in his bedroom in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. This is one of the reasons he didn't want to be this kind of writer, why he was so hesitant to accept this new advert campaign and Gina wanting to put his name out there. He gets along just fine with Paula and she's been nice so far, but book signings at Barnes and Noble and free coffee at their cafe are one thing. Overpriced dinners on 5th avenue are something entirely different.

He can do this. He'll just ignore anything that doesn't look like it belongs put on his body.

Grabbing the pants, he starts shoving his legs through when he hears a knock on his door. "Just..." he starts, struggling to pull the pants up, "Just a minute!" He calls from his bedroom and starts to hop on one foot, the legs getting caught with every step. He makes it to the living room and hops over to the door, finally pulling the pants up and pulling the snap closed. He checks through the peephole and sees someone that makes the nerves disappear.

He pulls the door open and isn't greeted with a normal nicety, or even given the chance to give one himself. It only takes a second before his mother is pushing her way into his apartment. "Richard, why on Earth didn't you tell me that you..." his mother trails off as she turns around, looking over to her son who is standing in the doorway. "Laundry day?"

Rick deadpans a stare and closes the door. "Paula roped me into some fancy fundraiser and it's black tie. She also took the liberty of sending my measurements to a tailor and had a tuxedo sent over, which I can't for the life of me figure out how to put on." He complains as he walks briskly back into his room. "Like... just what are these for?" He asks, pulling up the small straps with the snaps on the ends, holding them up to his mother who followed him in.

Martha smiles and calmly takes them from her son. "These are garters for your socks, Richard. You should know this."

"Mom, I don't have time to play twenty questions. I have to leave in," Rick stops to check his clock on his nightstand, "crap, twenty minutes."

"Well, what time is this fundraiser?"

"Six o'clock."

Martha chuckles lightly and picks up the shirt from the bed. "Richard, it's only three o'clock."

"I know that, Mom, but I made a plans for an early dinner with someone and I don't want to be late." He says, turning around as his mother pushes the shirt onto his arms, leaving him to straighten it out.

"Richard," Martha starts again as she picks up the vest, "when were you planning on telling me you met someone."

"In all honesty, I wasn't, really." He admits as his mother puts the vest on him from behind. "I only brought her over Thursday night because I knew you'd be performing and wouldn't have time to interrogate me."

"Well, tough luck, kiddo, because I have plenty of time now. So..." She says, taking up the cumberbun, "who, what, when, where, and how?"

"All at once, huh?" Rick asks, trying to bide his time. Her only response is to toss the large belt over his shoulder. "She's a waitress at the Old Haunt." He says, taking the belt off his shoulder and turning around to look back at his mom's pursed lips and raised brow. "You know that place where you said I wouldn't meet anyone."

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Kate, and I'd rather not jinx my chances by getting into the details with my mother." He says, reaching behind himself to snap the cumberbun on.

"Well, what's she like?" She asks on a shrug.

Rick feels his stomach fold and his heart slowly pull apart in a swarm of butterflies. "She has the grace stolen straight from the hands of the angels, she has the wit as sharp as a razor blade, she's funny-"

"She's gorgeous." His mother gets him to his point.

"I was getting to that." Rich says and gets the jacket.

"Why didn't you tell me about her, Richard?" She asks again, helping her son by straightening out the lapels of his jacket once he has it over his shoulders.

"I just met her, Mom. The only thing I know about her other than the fact that she works at the Haunt is the fact that I'm still in the process of making my first impression, which I already screwed up more than once by doing something stupid."

"What'd you do?"

"Things that I don't want to repeat to my mother." He says, grabbing his Rolex off the dresser and putting it on. One of the few things other than his espresso machine still in the kitchen left over from his first advance. "Now, if you don't mind, I told her that I'd meet her for an early dinner before her shift at the Haunt, so I really have to go." He says, shaking his arms out to straighten himself out in his tux. "Thanks for the help, Mom." He says to her with a soft smile and places a thankful kiss to her cheek.

* * *

He sighs another long, worried, shaky sigh as he rocks back and forth on the heels of his jet black wingtips, getting more than a few weirded out grimaces from the guys walking by him and gawking admiring stares from the women passing by him on the street outside of Remy's. With another bouquet of tulips tucked in between his arm and his side with his hands stuffed nervously into his pockets, he looks up the street again in the direction she'd come from.

Nothing.

He pulls his hand out of his slacks, shakes his wrist out, and checks his watch again. It's time he face the facts. It's thirty minutes past four o'clock. She's already supposed to be on shift at the bar by now.

He can physically feel his heart start to break inside of his aching chest, feeling as if it's being splintered away and picked at piece by piece every time the second hand on his watch ticks, marking another second where she made the decision not to come. He knew he was fooling himself. All along, thinking he had a shot with her. Thinking he had a chance with someone like that. Who was he kidding?

A magic show was such a stupid idea.

Or maybe it was his comment on Beauty and the Beast that made her change her mind.

His throat closing, he shakes his head a few times and shoves off the brick wall and over to the edge of the sidewalk. He steps up to the trashcan, lifts the metal lid up, puts the bouquet down against the edge, then puts the lid on top. With a single swift motion, Rick tears the flowers in two with a grunt, then tosses the torn stems inside the can.

It always ends like this for him with the real ones, doesn't it?

* * *

"Can I get you another one?" She asks.

"That'd be great, thanks." The man answers politely.

Kate smiles back politely and takes up the glasses from the two businessmen and puts them on the tray, then moves quickly back to the other side of the bar, setting the tray down on the bar, removing the glasses and putting two new ones down, filling both with ice and pouring one with two shots ofwhiskey and the other with Gin. She goes back to the booth next to his and sets the glasses down, having the two customers thank her again. She carries the tray back to the register to ring their tab up.

She's just passing the tables when her eyes catch a glimpse of someone entering the bar. When her eyes catch him, she feels her heart stop.

Standing a few feet away from the bar with the tray hanging limply in her hand, she feels everything inside of her drop to her feet as she lets out a very shaky breath. He's standing at the door with the door slowly closing behind him, his hands tucked into the pockets of a finely pressed black three-piece tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled and his jaw perfectly shaven. The vest is a dark, vibrant blue and it brings out the blue in his eyes so perfectly. But still, he's standing at the door, not only looking directly at her, but looking as if his heart is stuck to the bottom of her shoe like an old piece of chewing gum.

Kate blinks rapidly a few times before turning to look back to the register and takes the long strides she needs to step up to it. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as she smells his cologne from across the bar. She hated making him the victim of this situation, but she never intended for anyone to fall the victim of any of this. It's her own fault and she knows that. She knows that he likes her, but she can't afford that in her life right now.

She's had nightmares about her for the past few nights. It's the first time in a long time she's had nightmares about her. It was a sign if she believed she could receive such things.

She focuses what little she can onto her work, even as she senses him stop a few feet away from her. She glances over to him out of the corner of her eye.

"I know you didn't forget." He says to her, wanting to be patient with her, but is too busy deciding who to be angry at the most.

Kate looks over to him out of the corner of her eye before looking ahead to the register again. "I'm working right now, Rick." She attempts to brush him off, as well put together and extremely cute as he looks in that tuxedo.

"I play poker with your boss, Kate." Rick tells her matter-of-factly. "I think he'll let me steal a few minutes of your time."

Kate lets out a shaky, guilt-ridden breath, but can't bear just turning to face him. "I know we had a date, Rick, but-"

"Could you at least give me the courtesy of telling me why you stood me up while looking me in the eye?" He stops her.

Kate feels her heart clench at him being so to-the-point and lets her hand drop off the screen of the register. She musters up the courage she can find in herself and turns to him with a blank stare, hard to maintain when she sees how much sadness his baby blue eyes are radiating.

"Was it anything I said? Anything I did?"

"No," She says honestly, her hand wanting to reach for him as she arches her brow, wanting him to understand. "I had a great time, Rick." Rick stays silent, not having a response that wouldn't make him look as pathetically desperate as he feels. "But I told you before, I'm just not in a place in my life where I can afford to have a relationship."

"And that's why you agreed to a date?"

"I-I..." she trails off, looking over his shoulder to the man looking in her direction, lifting up an empty glass to her. "I can't explain right now, but it's not you, okay? It's me."

Rick rolls his eyes deeply and shifts his weight before looking back up to her, his expression still hung low. "I'm an expert in dialogue mapping, Kate." He says in a low voice. "The only reason I'd have a character say that is when he or she doesn't want to tell the other person that they just don't belong there."

"That's not what I said, Rick."

"Shall I go _back_ to the part where you leave me standing in front of a restaurant for an hour and a half waiting for a date that you never showed up for?" He softly argues, trying to keep his frustration in check.

"I know you look at things like a writer, Rick, but my life isn't one of your books."

"And neither am I." He answers off the bat. His response makes her words fall flat. "If you don't want to see me, then I'd rather you not just pick me up when you have some down time and shove an electric bill inside of me when you need to get back to your life."

"Rick, I-" she starts but sees the man across the bar lift his empty glass at her, shaking it in the air again. "I can't talk about this right now. Can you..." she trails off, shrugging her shoulders but feeling small under his sad gaze, "maybe stick around?"

"I have a fundraiser to get to, or did you really think that I have this monkey suit on for kicks?" He tells her with narrowed eyes.

"I have to get back to work, Rick." She says, taking up her tray again. "I'm sorry."

Without another word, she moves quickly to the other side of the bar.

* * *

Rick lets out another heavy breath, drowning himself in the rest of his martini as he throws the last of his third one down his throat. He lets out a breathy grunt as he slams the glass down to the bar and leans forward, his head starting to swim. Why would he even think he could have had a chance to have a place in her life, especially in that capacity?

Kyra leaving the way she did should have been the telltale sign, a billboard flashing in bright neon lights, that he doesn't get to have someone that special. That he's just not built for it, as much as he wants to be and tries to be. He just doesn't get to have someone that special.

"If you don't mind my saying," the bartender says, coming back over and reaching underneath the bar, "you're hitting it pretty hard."

Rick looks back up from the bar and over to the bartender in a white button-up shirt and a black vest. "I know it's an open bar, but if this is your way of asking for a tip, you're going to have to be a little bit more subtle."

The bartender lifts his arms, a bottle Gin in one hand. "No tip necessary, Sir."

"Good, because you make a pretty lousy Martini, if you don't mind my saying." He fires back.

"Hey," the bartender says in a defensive tone, "I only took this gig to get some petty cash while I'm on leave, alright? I ship back out to Iraq in another couple weeks."

Rick stops, feeling slightly bad as the bartender mixes him another drink. "You're military?"

The bartender smirks proudly. "US Army, Special Forces. Ran out of spending money. A friend of mine got me this bartending gig while I'm home."

"Well, thank you for your service, I guess." Rick says and sloppily gives the bartender a salute.

"This'll be your fourth one, bro." He says as he's mixing Rick his drink.

"Yeah, yeah, you'd be drinking too if you just got stood up by the woman _you've_ been waiting your whole life for too. So, take it easy with the AA pitch."

"Hey," The bartender smiles, "I'm not here to judge. I'm just saying, this is a pretty fancy party you're at."

"Please," Rick chuckles bitterly, "you really think any of these people care about homeless shelters? The only thing these people care about is flexing their generosity muscle in front of the cameras. The only reason I'm here is because my agent wanted me to do the same."

"And when you heard that there was an open bar?" The bartender says back with a narrowed grin.

Rick deadpans a drunken stare at him, then flicks the edge of his martini glass, causing the glass to ring out. "Can you make that stop ringing, please?"

The bartender chuckles and pours him another drink and sets it down in front of him. "There you go, Sir." He says, wipes his hands with a towel, and moves to set a napkin down in front of someone else who just sat down a few stools away from Rick. "What can I get you, Miss?" Rick hears him ask.

"Same," She says, Rick knowing she's pointing in his direction. The bartender nods and goes about making her drink. "I hate these things."

Rick lifts his glass up to his lips and nods, giving her a pointless chuckle to let her know that he heard her.

"My manager sent me here to 'network'. He wanted me to mingle with all these socialites." Rick hears her say, telling she wants to spark a conversation. "What about you?"

Rick laughs to himself again and swirls his glass around in front of him, "I'm just the guy in the monkey suit here for the open bar." He says, still looking straight ahead.

"Wait," she says, "have I seen you before?"

"If you have, my sincerest apologies." He laments.

The woman next to him snaps her fingers, "New York's most eligible bachelors, number seven, right? Richard Castle."

"Nine," he corrects her, taking another drink of his martini.

"Well," the woman says charmingly, "you look much better in person, Rick. Your pictures don't really do you justice."

Rick looks over to her, but stops when he sees the woman sitting turned to face him, her toned legs crossed and her bright red dress cut very short, her chest almost bare with a pair of spaghetti straps going over her shoulders and her red hair going down her face, with a bright, excited smile. "Thank you." He says, being thankful to get complimented by someone as attractive as her.

For all the work he did for Kate only to get turned down, it feels nice to get complimented without much work at all, to feel... actually wanted so easily.

"And I suppose your manager picked your outfit as well?"

The woman smiles and looks down to her dress. "The dress I picked out myself." She says and crosses her legs in the other direction. "You like it?"

Rick nods his head off to the side and looks away, taking the last sip of his martini. "Red seems to be your color."

"It's the hair, right?" Rick laughs and sets his glass down. "Well, I know your name, but you never did ask me for mine."

Rick looks over to her and sees she's still smiling a friendly, open smile. "I suppose I didn't." He says and reaches his hand over to her.

She smiles and shakes his hand softly. "I'm Meredith."

* * *

 _A/N: Didn't think I'd make it that easy, did ya? Leave the hate in the reviews. :)_


	11. Chapter 11

A loud pounding jolts him awake, breaking him out of the heaviest sleep he's fallen under the spell of in a very long time. Once his head jumps off the pillow, he feels as if it just grew four sizes in five different places that his skull just can't contain a second longer.

"Uuuugh..." he groans loudly as he lets his head fall achingly back down to the pillow, sprawled out widely across the entire expanse of his bed on his stomach. "Not now..."

The pounding sound echos across his apartment again and he can tell that whoever it is, they're not going away.

"Fine..."

He grabs the single sheet left on the bed with his head still buried in the pillows, tosses it off his body and sloshes himself around onto his back, his head still trying to figure out which way is up and where exactly his brain belongs. His throat feels as if it's just seconds away from giving back everything it's taken in during his entire life, and his stomach is killing him. He drags his legs off the bed and slowly sits up right just as the pounding on the door sounds again.

Rick presses a palm to his head and closes his aching eyes. With only his boxers on, he pushes himself up onto his feet with as much strength as he can and starts to waddle through the door. He can feel his equilibrium shift from side to side as he takes clumsy step after clumsy step toward the door until he feels his shoulder knock hard against the door jam. He keeps his palm pressed into his head as he steadies himself on the door jam he just ran into.

The alcohol still poisoning his system, he's too out of it to notice or to care that he's opening the door in only his boxers to who might as well be a complete stranger. Even so, he sloshes his way through his apartment and over to the door, stepping on the shirt from his tuxedo on his way and tripping on his cumberbun with the very next step. He's at the door with his eyes still closed, unwilling to adjust to the light of the room. It only takes a moment for him leaning against the wall next to the door to muster up the courage to turn the knob and open his door.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Rick." The thick accent of his agent says as she shoves his way into his apartment. "This is a big milestone for you. A rite of passage for ya almost."

"Paula?" He asks with his eyes still half closed.

"Here I am buying billboards in every subway platform this side of Lady Liberty and you get that pretty face of your's in the papers overnight, _free_ of charge." She tells him as she continues into his apartment.

"Wha...?" He asks as he closes the door and turns around.

Once he turns to face her, he feels his shirt being tossed in his face. "Cover yourself, Rick, ya getting me flustered."

"Uh..." he groans as he pulls his tuxedo shirt from his face and slowly starts to pull the sleeves on. "Paula, what are you doing here?"

"Ya know, Rick, I don't even know why you need me." Paula says, pouting her lips out and crossing her arms at the entrance to his kitchen off his living room. "You should save yourself 10% and let me go, seeing as you're perfectly capable of getting articles in the papers all by your lonesome."

Rick stares at her with a knot in his brow. "I reiterate."

Paula looks over to him again with frustration simmering in her expression and slowly paces her way toward him, pulling the newspaper out from under her arm. "I told you," she starts slowly, "to _smile_ at the cameras, not _dance_ _!"_ She says strongly and shoves the paper at him. "Ya know, the soul-sucking vultures that've been circling that pretty face of yours finally smelled blood, and now," she stops, takes the paper back from him, unfolds it a few pages, and shoves it back at him, "they put it on page six."

"Page s..." he trails off, his drunken brain slow to catch the details and fit them into place, "you mean the gossip column?" He asks, looking down at the paper.

"That's right, Hemmingway." Paula says and takes the paper from him again, shoving it in his face. "Recognize her?"

"U-uh..." Rick stutters as his eyes focus on the picture of him, blinking rapidly. "She uh..." he starts, seeing the familiar face but the unfamiliar photo of him with a bright, drunken smile on his face with that familiar looking redhead hanging draped over his arm as if he's dipping her while dancing. "She was at the fundraiser last night. Why?"

"Oh, really?" Paula shrugs her shoulders. "She was just at the fundraiser last night, was she? You have any idea who that is?!"

"Yeah, she said her name was uh... Meredith something."

"That's _the_ Meredith Harper." Paula says pointedly. When Rick just stares at her, Paula windmills her hand in front of him to help him get the picture. "Channel Seven? She plays Lori on the Times Like Now soap opera?"

Rick's expression falls in impatience as he waves at his TV. "I watch cartoons and documentaries about aliens building the pyramids, Paula." He says just as pointedly as she sounds and hands her the paper back, pacing away from her and running a hand through his matted bed hair.

"Says here you two were seen acting pretty touchy-feely before leaving together just as the event was ending." Paula says when Rick is a few paces away from her.

Rick puts a hand on his waist and balls his fist up in his hair with a tight grip, wanting to rip it out. He can feel his eyes burn.

"What'd ya do, Rick?"

All Rick can answer with is turning around and giving her a stern glare, holding back as much emotion as he can. He swore he wouldn't go back to that life after Kyra left. Being so heartbroken by Kate's rejection, drunk, at an event that he didn't want to attend in the first place... it was all a perfect storm that makes giving into his weakness seem like the only way out. Paula can seemingly tell he's having a hard time dealing with it all from the look in his eye.

"Come on, Rick." Paula says, taking a step forward and tapping his arm with the newspaper and giving him a friendly smile. "So you had one night. What's the big deal? You lay low for a while, cancel a few singings, keep under the radar, I'll get you through this. The fact that this Harper-harpie got her crosshairs set on you won't be a problem."

"It's easy for you to say. But I'm not supposed to be like this, okay?" He tries weakly to defend himself with an arched brow.

"Who says you're like that?" Paula asks him.

"Oh, gee, I don't know," Rick starts sarcastically and lifts the paper up to her face, "maybe every single literate person in Manhattan?"

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better," Paula starts and tips her hand to him, "Harper is known in certain circles to have a knack for getting her claws in men that leave themselves open for a swoop-in. And I hate to tell you this, Rick, but last night... you might as well have been a fresh fish washed up on shore."

"You say that like it makes everything better." He says back in a dark voice and moves passed her and into his kitchen, moving around the peninsula and over to his espresso machine, pulling the portafilter out with a firm twist.

"So," Paula starts, sounding as if she's meandering toward the kitchen after him, "any way you want me to handle this?"

"Handle what?" He asks her, turning to look at her over his shoulder.

"If I were you," Paula says and takes a seat on one of the stools on the other side of the peninsula of his kitchen, "the golden approach might be best."

"The what?" Rick asks as he stamps down the grounds into the filter and carefully rounds it off.

"Silence is golden, just pretend it never happened. Harper isn't the type to have any public shame about these kinds of things. "

Rick pushes out a sigh as he twists the portafilter back into place. "Might work for the papers, Paula. But not on her."

"If that's what you-"

"Paula?" Rick says softly, leaning against the counter with his head down. When she doesn't respond, he continues. "I just need some time alone, okay?"

There's a pause before he hears the leather of the cushion on the stool crinkle when she slides off. "Call me if you need me, alright?"

"I'll try not to this time."

Not another word is exchanged as Paula exits the apartment, leaving him to hang his head limply. His lungs straining, he lets out a shaky breath and shoves off the counter and turns around, hardening his spine as much as he can, seeing Paula had left the paper behind on the counter she was sitting at, turned open to page six. He takes a few steps forward and reaches for the paper, seeing his humiliation on display.

He's better than this. He knows he is.

Her parents expected this kind of thing out of him. That's why they hated him so much. They always thought he was incapable of taking himself seriously. They always thought that he could never dedicate himself to anything real, always thought he was destined to wake up with a fogged memory, always thought he would forever be running away from responsibility. And for a while, they were right. He gave them exactly what they wanted, a self-fulfilling prophecy that drove him to the edge of madness for a while until he managed to straighten himself out.

The best revenge he ever got for poisoning Kyra against him is proving them wrong and surviving. He thought he taught himself a long time ago that survival is the best revenge he could ever hope for, was not being like that at all.

Rick draws in a few very long breaths, solidifying his straining lungs before he takes the newspaper in both hands and tears it in two. He has to know who he truly is. He has to learn to stop doubting himself so much. She said she had a great time. She seemed like she had a great time. She gave him a seal of proof with that soft kiss she brushed onto his jaw just before she went inside. Rick closes his eyes and keeps his breathing as slow and stead as he can.

He was so caught up in trying to pinpoint ways to get her attention, approaching it by means of just tossing out ideas hoping one would stick like he would in writing a new book, he forgot one of the most important tools in writing, the thing that separates great writers from the rest; the ability to see the world through another person's eyes.

And right now, she has a thick cloud of negative capability surrounding her that he has to understand will make her actions and her approach to things seem entirely different.

Rick lets out a hard sigh and tosses the torn paper into the trash, then turning around and starting the espresso machine, reaching for the phone on the other side of the counter as he does.

* * *

Kate feels herself slowly wake up and turns over onto her back with a stretch. The first night in a long time she hasn't had another nightmare. The last ones can still haunt her, but now that they've stopped, the images will start to fade again... hopefully.

She hated doing what she did. And if she had remembered herself during their first outing, she wouldn't have allowed herself to get so sucked in by him. He just makes it so easy to forget herself, forget her problems. But he also takes away her ambitions. With him around, there seems to be nothing else but him. Whether it's him just being that all-encompassing, his personality just being that large, or his just being that distracting, she can't have that in her life.

Kate can still feel her cold, lifeless eyes bore into her as she whips off the covers and pads her way out of her bedroom and into the bathroom for the morning. She's never let her mother down before. She can't afford to do it now just because someone like him shows up... or maybe just him, if there's anyone else like him out there. She has too much riding on her staying on this path. Justice for her mother, for all the other families she knows the cops like that detective from that night just write off like they mean nothing to no one, for her father. She can't think of any other way to get him out of this and she can't back down now.

And as far as she has to go, and as much as it may hurt, she can't afford to stop.

Kate exits the bathroom and finds Lanie at the table with a cup of coffee sitting in her hand and the paper in front of her. "Morning, Lane." Kate says in a monotone voice as she goes into their kitchenette.

Lanie folds up the paper and stands up from the chair. Kate can tell by the sound of the squeaking wood underneath her weight and the rustling of the paper. "I hope you're happy."

Kate stops with a small bottle of orange juice in her hand. "Yes," She answers, "wait, no, not yet, yes... wha-um..." Kate shakes her head, getting her words straight. "What are you talking about?"

Lanie folds the paper over in one hand and shows it to her. The instant she sees his face in the black and white grainy picture in the paper, her heart gets lodges tightly in her throat. Her spine then tightens with spasming nerves when she sees him smiling goofily with a woman in a very skimpy dress hanging from his arm. She can tell there's an article below the picture, but can't tear her eyes away from the picture.

Why does she feel like this? This is what she wanted, right? Why does her stomach feel this nauseous over a guy she said she didn't have room in her life for in the first place? Kate shakes the thoughts away as best she can and cracks the plastic seal on the bottle of orange juice, looking away and taking a small sip. "So?"

"Oh, come on, girl." Lanie says and turns the paper back over. "Richard Castle, recently outed as the ruggedly handsome writer he is, and even more recently listed as one of New York's most eligible bachelors, took to a fundraiser last night for his hometown's struggling homeless shelters, where he ran into another attractive socialite." Lanie reads.

Kate tries her hardest not to let the word affect her inside, but it's all she can do to keep it from affecting her outside and maintain her steady demeanor as she pushes her way passed Lanie and into the living room.

"Meredith Harper, known least for her shyness and modesty, met up with the mystery novelist where the two of them seemed to hit it off. While the two of them arrived in separate cars, they left in just one. What happens next is a mystery that we'll have to read about in Mr. Castle's next novel." Lanie continues as Kate grits her teeth and ignores the anxious flex in the muscles of her back while sitting down in the couch. "Or will we see these two out together more often? In this reporters opinion, they seem to fit."

On the last sentence, Lanie refolds the paper and tosses it down to the coffee table in front of her. Kate takes another swig of her orange juice and shrugs her shoulders, trying to be as cool about the situation as she can. This is what she wanted. She wanted to go back to her own path. But yes, she does care about what he does.

Was he just fooling her and getting her to think in the back of her mind that he wasn't like this? Or was what she did that heartbreaking for him?

Kate blinks a few times and looks down to her lap as she pulls her legs up onto the couch. "I told you, Lanie. It wasn't a date. He can do whatever he wants."

"Kate, this woman is-"

"A nobody, Lane." Kate finishes for her. "And besides, look at the picture." She points to the paper. "Half that picture is of the bar, which is clearly open. He was clearly drunk and made a fool of himself. He does it every night at the Haunt. He probably needed a drink af-" Kate cuts herself off, keeping the part of her standing him up to herself, unwilling to make herself out to be the villain of the story. "Anyway, you really think she's his type?"

"Kate..." Lanie starts pointedly, "he... _liked..._ you."

"And now he's on page six, so what's your-" Kate's cut off by a knock on the door, "your point." She finishes as she gets up to answer the door. Kate opens the door and finds a delivery guy standing on the other side with a large bouquet of tulips on one arm.

"Kate Beckett?" He asks, tipping the bill of his hat up.

"Uh... yeah."

"Sign here." He says, handing her a clipboard. She scrawls out her signature in one motion and sees the delivery guy give her a smile as he hands her the bouquet. "Enjoy."

"Uh..." she stammers again, looking at the large bouquet of tulips in her hands, "thanks?"

Kate closes the door with her foot and takes the notecard from the center of the flowers, handing the flowers to Lanie. "I told you he liked you."

Ignoring her, Kate tears open the envelope and pulls out the notecard.

 _Kate-_

 _This will be the third time I've tried to give you flowers. I figured I couldn't chicken out if I had someone else do it for me. I can't help but feel you've seen the paper already. You said you wanted to talk, so if you're still willing to let me listen, I'll be at the coffee shop two blocks down from the Old Haunt. You're supposed to get the flowers at 9:30, so I'll be there until 11. Same as before, no pressure, no expectations other than we talk. If you don't show up, don't worry, I will understand this time. I promise._

 _P.S. I hope you like tulips -Rick  
_

Kate looks up to Lanie, who has the flowers pressed into her nose with a pleasant smile. "How did..." she trails off, looking at the flowers in her roommate's hands.

"What's it say?" She asks.

Kate waves the notecard at the flowers before letting it fall limply to her side. "Tulips are my favorite."

* * *

 _A/N: Got a 33/33/33 hate response to the last chapter. Some were mad at Kate, some mad at Rick, most mad at Meredith. Anyway, Happy Memorial Day. Enjoy the new chapter... if you still enjoy the story, that is. :o_


	12. Chapter 12

It's snowing again. She doesn't mind it, it's a minor inconvenience. With her hood pulled up and her jacket pulled tight into the cove of her chest, Kate grimaces when a cold wind whips against her face, making her eyes sting. She doesn't want to waste any time. She only has an hour to catch him and it usually takes a forty-five-minute walk to get to the Haunt from her apartment. She wants to catch him before he leaves. Her friendship, if they can call it that yet, is already getting complicated. She doesn't want to complicate it anymore by him leaving, thinking she doesn't want to see him again, only because she didn't make it on time.

She can just imagine his face if she doesn't make it. Looking just as hurt and dejected as he did the night before, having to shuffle off back out into the cold.

Kate grits her teeth as she enters the throngs of people crossing the street on the last block she needs. She's decided not to think about what's going to be said. She just knows she wants to see him. And she's well aware of the conflict, the fact that for a man she's so adamant not to have room for or time for in her life, she's going completely out of her way to keep him in it.

The only thing she knows about him is if she leaves him like this, as hard as she tries, he will haunt her for the rest of her life.

Spotting the coffee shop on the corner, she feels her throat close in anxiousness and quickens her stride through the crowd on jelly-like legs. She passes by the window, seeing the coffee shop has a warm decor of off-white, light brown, dark walnut, a slew of black circular tables scattered about the space with a long line of people jetting out from the counter. Just another reason why she doesn't drink coffee.

Ignoring it, she walks up to the entrance and yanks the door open, stopping just inside the entrance. Kate quickly scans the noisy crowd of accountants, receptionists, bankers, copy boys, and gophers, until she spots the unmistakable form of his broad shoulders and the rebellious flair of his hair, sitting at a small table against the window, his back to the door. She draws in a toughening breath, steeling herself, seeing him in his wool raincoat with a scarf of light and dark blue hung over his neck, sitting hunched over the table.

She squeezes her way through the crowd trying to get through the door and makes it a few paces away from the table before she slows down.

She clears her throat a few times to herself, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. Even from here, she can see a raggedness in his usually bright and excited features. Taking a few more steps forward, she speaks, catching his attention. "You look a little more worse for wear than normal."

Rick quickly sits up in his chair, looking up with a raised brow and dancing eyes, staring at her blankly for a moment before a smile starts to brighten his face. He catches himself before it gets too far, watching silently as she sits down, clad in a casual outfit of light blue jeans, running shoes, a grey hoodie, and her dark blue cargo jacket.

"You came." His mouth says despite him telling it not to let the words fall.

Kate pulls the chair out across from him and sits down, seeing a dark green cup with a floral pattern of red on it sitting just a few inches away from the one clutched in his hands. Kate feels her heart harden as she thinks back to the flowers she now has sitting in a dark blue vase on her window sill in her bedroom.

"When my mother was growing up," she starts off the bat, looking up to him across the table with a firm, unwavering glare, "her mother kept a box outside the window just above the sink in the kitchen where she'd grow tulips."

Rick feels himself lock up in nervousness, thinking now, and dreading every word leaving her lips, that she came here to tell him off once and for all.

"Growing up, my mother loved looking at my grandmother's tulips, so she always kept tulips around the house when I was growing up." Kate states plainly, no higher or lower inflection in her voice, looking at him with a stern, matter-of-fact glare. Rick is staring back wide-eyed and arched browed, feeling like he's being accused of something he didn't do again. "How the hell did you know that tulips are my favorite flower?"

Rick blinks at her blankly, "Uh..." he tries, "disregarding my tucking that information away for later, I didn't. I just thought they looked nice."

Kate, seeing his eyes tremor with fear, she nods and looks down to the table as she cranes her neck.

"I uh..." he tries again, poking the cup opposite of him toward her, "I bought you that."

Kate lifts her hand, "No, I don't drink coffee, Rick."

Rick nods slowly, "I know," he says to her, "that's why that's hot chocolate." Kate lifts her head back up to look at him again, being disengaged by his offer. "I remembered you said you didn't drink coffee at the hospital, so..." he shrugs and nods his head down to the cup in front of her.

Kate nods gratefully, more so feeling her heart flutter that he remembered something so off-handed like that. She pulls the warm cup into her hands with her fingers and clutches it. Kate pushes a heavy, thankful smile over to him, watching him lift his own cup to his lips and take a long sip. "Rough night?" She asks him.

Rick chuckles darkly once his cup is taken off his lips. Rick lowers his darkened and baggy eyes down to the table, shameful. "You'll forgive me if I don't look my usual dapper self."

Kate chuckles softly at him and pulls her cup closer to her as she adjusts herself in her chair. "A glass of milk before passing out works wonders, Rick."

Rick laughs and nods at her. "That uh..." he trails off, not wanting to pull back on himself that much to reveal too much of his own misgivings, "wasn't really on the forefront of my mind last night."

Kate nods at him. She doesn't want to push him to tell her what he did after he left the Haunt. She doesn't want to know. She wants to hang onto that semblance of that sweet, well-meaning, wittingly charming albeit naive and childish guy she kissed on the cheek. She doesn't want to know he's capable of that kind of mistake. She doesn't want to admit to herself that her first instinct was right in that he really is just that type of guy to keep score through notches on his bedposts and all she was to him was the start of a new line of score-keeping.

They fall into a thick silence as Rick keeps his eyes down to his cup, while Kate is having a hard time looking away from him. "So," she starts hesitantly, her voice weak, quiet, and small, getting his attention as he looks back up to her, "about last night..."

Rick dismisses her and lifts his hand up off the side of his cup. "No, Kate, you..." he tries, trying to get her to stop before she does, "you don't have to explain."

"Rick, I owe you an explanation." She fires back, looking over into his sad, soulful eyes.

"Kate, I know I don't know much about you, but the one thing I know about you is that you're a very private person." Rick stops her, giving her his own explanation. Rick's words squeeze her heart, thinking the only thing she gave him over the course of him being around her is that she's a private person. She would have thought she gave him more than that. "I don't want you thinking you owe me anything, okay?" He says to her, the level of honesty in his voice making her throat clench.

"Well," she tries again, at a loss for how to deal with the situation. She feels as if she's chasing after him, which she's never had to do with anyone. "Will you at least let me apologize?"

Rick looks over to her, his eyes softening from the determination shining in them to turn himself into the villain. He senses something about her, that apologizing in such a sincere way feels alien to her, that she's never been the type to second guess herself or have to double back on a decision. Double down, if she's ever called out maybe, but never double back. He wants to give her an out, he wants to give her a something that says she can walk out of here with her head held as high as it usually is without any guilt or remorse as to how she's leaving him.

But he also remembers feeling his heart fall to pieces into the pits of his churning stomach when he realized she wasn't coming. So he gives her a small nod.

Kate looks down to her unattended cup and hardens herself, seeing his hands still clutched around his cup. She can feel her hands tell her to reach for him, give him some gesture to show him that despite how she comes off sometimes, she has grown to care about him, despite the odds. All she can seem to muster up is to tighten the grip on her cup and pull it closer to her.

"I'm sorry." She says, having an inflection of emotional honesty in her voice. "I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but I..." she trails off, remembering how he made her feel as they walked down the street toward her apartment, how she forgot about everything not only weighing her down but pulling her forward. "I did have a _really_ great time last Thursday. So... I don't want you to think it was anything you did."

Rick lifts his hand up to her again, "No, no, I get it. It's alright." He says, seeming content with the outcome.

At his reaction, Kate stumbles. "What... it's alright?"

Rick sniffs a bit and adjusts himself in his chair, pulling himself further into the table. He takes a short pause before looking back up to her. "One of the most important things for any great novelist to have is empathy. And speaking in literary terms, it basically means having the ability to shift your perspective and see the world through another person's eyes. For instance, if I'm writing a character who steals a loaf of bread, I have to be able to see through the eyes of the baker who is trying to pay his rent, but also have to be able to see through the eyes of the thief and see that there was a hungry child waiting around the corner."

Kate nods, understanding that he would put things in terms of being a writer. But sometimes, a thief is just that... a thief. Some people steal only to see people make themselves look like fools. "And you're saying that know what I'm going through?" She asks, trying not to put an edge on her voice.

"That," he lifts his hand up to her again, then points a finger in her direction, "brings me to what's called negative capability."

Kate rolls her eyes to herself as she leans back in her chair a bit. "Is that supposed to be some kind of slight?" She asks incredulously.

Rick smiles a soft smile and chuckles. "No, not at all." He says as he smiles, making Kate's heart painfully flutter, knowing it's something she can't give into. "John Keats used the term to describe parts of a story that are basically left open to uncertainty for the sake of artistic beauty. It's a skill all great writers have to leave certain things undiscovered about a story."

Kate nods, admitting to herself that she admires him now, his way of looking at things as a writer. "This is a long-winded way of telling me something, isn't it?"

Rick's soft smile fades from his tired face as he looks back down to his cup. "I don't know what it is you're going through in your life, Kate." His soft, sincere tone make her heart clench painfully. "And no, this is not my way of getting you to tell me what it is. All I'm saying is that if you said it wasn't me, then all I can do is take it at face value."

Kate nods sternly at him again. "I'm sorry, Rick, I just can't afford what you want in the place I am in my life right now." Rick nods as he looks down to his cup, his dejection and hurt plain on his face as he hides it behind the short strands of hair hanging in front of his forehead. "If I told you where that place is, would it make you feel better?"

Rick looks back up to her, surprise arching his brow a bit. He takes a short moment of pause before speaking, "Who is he?"

Kate smirks and shakes her head. "No, it's nothing like that, trust me." Rick can feel his chest untense from his heart preparing itself to break. Kate looks down to her cup again before giving him an answer. "I'm going to be a cop." She states confidently, knitting her brow as she looks over to him, seeing him stare back at her softly. "I'm planning on enrolling in the academy once open enrollment starts up this summer." All she's met with is a soft blink of his eyes and a movement of his mouth, as if he's choking back his response. "What, are you another type who says I can't cut it?" She fires back, having heard it all before.

"No."

"Or are you another guy who's turned off by a woman being a cop?"

"No," he says on another chuckle, "before I remembered it wasn't my place to ask, I was going to ask you what happened."

Kate blinks at him rapidly a few times. "E-excuse me?" She asks, being taken off guard.

"You'll have to forgive me if this sounds condescending, but... you're... immaculately beautiful," he says, his eyes roving over her, making her blush a bit and pull away from him bashfully, sliding a hand over her ear, "you're very intelligent, you carry yourself with such a natural grace, your wit can only be matched with... well, mine. A woman like you doesn't have the whole world laid out in front of her only to choose the gritty life of being a cop unless something happens."

"I-I-"

"And no," he cuts her off, "that was not my way of trying to get whatever that is out of you. Let's just..." he trails off, pulling back, "call it negative capability."

Kate nods at him slowly, feeling her heart slow to a steady pace again. "Thank you."

Rick nods in response and looks down to his cup, taking the last sip swirling around in the bottom.

"So, did you sleep with her?" The words spill out of her mouth as she lifts her cup up to her lips to catch them.

Rick looks up to her, a bit stunned, taking a pause before chuckling nervously. "A little personal, don't you think?"

"You're right," she lifts her hand, dismissing herself. "It's none of my business."

Rick breathes a small sigh and looks over to her, seeing her concentrate down to her cup as she sets it back down to the table. "I'll tell you what," he starts in a lighter, less serious tone, "I'll tell you a bit of personal information about myself if you tell me a bit of your own." Rick tells her with a soft smirk. "Tit for tat."

Kate grins at him. "Don't you think it would just be easier for me to read about it in the paper?" She wags her brow at him.

"My agent ordered me to keep under the radar for a while, I will have you know. So I will not be doing anything stupid for a while. Not publicly anyway."

Kate laughs softly and looks away from him, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Alright," she says, looking up to him with a confident smile, "you're on."

Rick nods at her slowly and folds his arms together as he leans toward her. It's only a short few seconds before a heavy sadness starts to seep into his features. "In my defense..." he starts slowly, "I was already four martinis in when she introduced herself. And I'm not saying it wasn't me, but one of the two of us had just been stood up on a date."

Kate nods rigidly. "So..." she hesitates, not wanting the answer she's digging for, "is that a yes?"

Rick sniffs a breath and looks away from her, craning his neck before looking back up and out the window. "If it makes you feel any better, she was gone when my agent woke me up this morning."

Kate smirks heavily and looks down to her cup, hiding her reaction by taking another short drink of her hot chocolate. "So," she changes the subject, "what did you want to know?" She looks up to him with a smirk that still feels heavy. He wasn't supposed to be that type of guy. "Ask me anything."

Rick looks at her soft smile, knowing it would send her further away if he used this opportunity to his own advantage and pried information about her, saying that they had an agreement. "How's your dad?"

Kate's breath gets caught in her throat as her heart skips a beat. "I-I'm sorry?"

"You said he hurt himself a couple weeks ago. I was just wondering how he was doing."

She breathes a nervous, breathy chuckle toward him and looks out the window, away from his soft, blue-eyed gaze. "That-that's uh..."

"Well," Rick laughs, "it's not like I was asking you how you like your eggs in the morning or anything."

"Over easy," spills out of her mouth before she can catch it. She can feel his intense, bright smile want to break out at her. "No, it's just..." that would make her reveal a lot more than even he asked for. "He's doing better." She decides to tell him, using neutral terms. "The medication he's on has him a bit... stubborn." She says, not wanting to tell him it's because he can't have any alcohol in his system when he takes it. "But he's supposed to go off of it pretty soon, so he should go back to normal."

Rick nods thankfully. "That's good."

"Yeah," She says softly and looks down to the table. "Back to normal." She says again, not wanting to tell him what normal is for her dad, the new normal anyway.

"Well," Rick starts again, shrugging his shoulders, "if you can't afford being my date, can you at least afford being a friend?"

She looks back up to him softly, gazing into his honest eyes, telling her he's willing to settle for her sake. "But that's not what you want."

"I know that's not what I want." He says in a small voice. "But I can still take what I can get, can't I?" Kate feels her bottom lip being pulled in between her teeth as she meets his eyes. "So... friends?" He asks again, extending his hand to her over the table.

Her eyes break away from his gaze and down to his hand. It only takes a moment for her to unfold her arms and softly place her hand in his, her thumb making a subconscious effort by petting his skin once he has hold of her hand. "Friends."

 _A/N Whatever you think is going to happen, probably isn't. You really think i would start this story, omly to get him into THAT?_


	13. Chapter 13

It's not until the next Saturday that Rick makes it to the Haunt again.

Having to rewrite almost his entire book to be able to comfortably turn it into the first of a series is proving to be a chore, but an easy challenge. He's having a bit of trouble with the chapters post-climax, the falling actions. In order for the story to work, to capture the reader he has to employ a bit of his own use of negative capability. The problem is he has to set it in a graveyard. He's never been to a graveyard before. He's dreading having to polish up that part the way he wants it.

He's glad that at the very least, him and Kate are on a ground of equal footing. A part of him thinks he put a curse on himself, accepting her friendship and settling for that and only that. Getting to be around her, see her smile, hear her laugh, watch her grow, watch her live, have to sit idly by when she does meet someone. Unlike him, who only spends his free time in a bar, she works in one. And this is New York. Someone better than him is sure to come along a lot sooner than any later.

Kate gave him a small smile when she saw him come in with his shoulder bag slung around his neck, brought him his usual drink of a double scotch rocks which he decided to nurse as he worked on a few chapters. Gina told him the book isn't due to print until at least mid-summer at the very earliest, so he has time to get it right, but he's decided to be honest with himself and admit that his intentions for venturing out to the Old Haunt to do some of his writing is nothing more than a cover at this point.

It's another quiet night at the Haunt and Mick is off duty, with Tony down in his office doing the paperwork for the tax season. Kate is working the bar with the occasional trip out from behind it to tend to the few patrons still lingering. Rick is at the point in his work where he could either stop and be satisfied, or start something else and be dissatisfied that he fizzled out and didn't finish. Deciding it's best for the former, he saves his work and closes his laptop, downing the last of the melted ice in the bottom of his glass.

Stuffing his laptop in his bag he scoots himself out of his booth, taking his glass with him as he walks up to the far end of the bar, where Kate has a wet rag in her hand, running it back and forth against the counter.

She looks over to him, having missed him for most of the night. She can't tell if he's purposefully keeping his distance ever since their talk at the coffee shop earlier in the week, or if he's just behind in his writing. She doesn't feel allowed to miss him. She doesn't feel allowed to cling to anything that makes things easier for her. And as much as it complicates things, in the moment, that's what he does for her. He just makes things easier for her. He takes it all away.

Nonetheless, she feels her breath tingle as she draws it in when she sees him approach her with his empty glass dangling from his right hand and a soft, content smirk on his face. "Need a refill?" She asks him, reaching underneath the bar to grab the bottle of scotch.

Rick smirks over to her as he sets his glass down onto the counter and takes a seat in the stool in front of her. "If you can squeeze me into your busy schedule." He pokes fun at the absence of customers. Kate chuckles in her throat as she grabs his glass and pours him a double shot of scotch.

"Yeah, real busy." She says with widening eyes and an obvious tone as she finishes pouring his drink.

"You guys don't get that much foot traffic?" Rick asks, honestly curious as he picks up his glass from the counter. "This place was pretty popular when I starting coming here."

Kate shrugs and picks the rag back up. "We're pretty busy at happy hour, so I do fine."

Rick takes the first small sip of his drink, taking his cue that she's open for conversation. He enjoys talking to her, while he still can. "Save for the guys who sit in the corner all night waiting for their opportunity to come and hit on you."

Kate, knowing what he's saying, looks around the bar, leaning over the counter and checking the other booths. "Who's that?"

Rick smirks at her widely while narrowing his eyes at her. "Come on, we've established that you're not interested. I think we can manage speaking a bit more candidly about it, can't we?"

Kate turns around with a soft smile, tossing the rag back onto the hook underneath the counter where it belongs. "You said you weren't hitting on me, Rick."

Rick sets his glass back down to the counter with a thud and traces the rim with his index finger. "Well, I wasn't." Rick corrects himself. "But that doesn't mean I haven't been lying in wait for my chance to talk to you while all the other guys in this bar _do_ hit on you."

Kate laughs softly as she goes over to the sink and takes the basket of glasses and sets it on the counter behind the bar, starting to stack them underneath for storage. "So, what," she starts on a chuckle, "are you saying you're coming over to talk to me so I don't get hit on?"

"Hey, what else am I suppose to do?" He asks her with a shrug of his shoulders as he lifts his glass up again and takes a small sip. "It's all I can do to bide my time, waiting for someone better than me to waltz in and steal you from me."

His wording makes her heart flutter, but she tries her best to shake it off with another grin. " _Steal_ me from you?"

"Yeah," he says on another shrug.

"So, I'm yours all of a sudden? I thought we were just friends." She says in a sly grin as she continues to store the glasses.

"Well, I guess you're right." He says in a lowered tone, looking down into his glass. "Theft does imply possession of some sort. And if you recall, I've already tried once before a certain person who shall remain nameless decided to cancel at the last minute."

Kate stops stacking the glasses and looks at him with a sullen frown. "You just love reminding me of that, don't you?"

"I didn't bring it up to make you feel guilty or anything."

"Yeah?" She starts, letting frustration get the better of her in her tone, "Then why'd you bring it up at all?"

"I brought it up to say that you're right in that you were never really mine."

"Yeah, and you also said that someone better than you was going to come along and _'steal'_ me away from you." She says using air quotes. "I told you that I'm not looking for a relationship. That goes for everyone." She says, waving her hand about the bar with a glass. Rick nods, not wanting to rebutt.

"That's alright," he says, his heart a cold rock inside of his chest, "I'm not your type anyway."

Kate leans back up and gives him in an incredulous smirk. "How would you know what my type is, Rick?"

"Well, I know it's not me." He says with a shake of his head as he takes his glass back up in his hand. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Okay, so since you know me so well, why don't you enlighten me then?" She tells him, waving another glass about in the air before putting it underneath the counter. "Just what do you think is... my type, huh?"

Rick shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know," he starts meagerly. "You're probably looking for... someone more serious. Someone more square-shouldered, more by-the-book. Someone who makes his work giving to others. You're probably looking for a guy who... makes a difference in the world. A girl like you, you're probably looking for a guy who's a... a fireman who saves kittens from trees or... or a doctor who saves orphans with cancer or something just as heroic. You're looking for someone that society looks up to and looks at as a hero."

Kate, having stopped her work and is leaning against the counter with her palms, feels her heart painfully clench inside of her chest. What he said sounds just about perfect for her, and if said by anyone else, she'd feel that he's right. But she knows what her mother would say. She can hear her now, the know-it-all inflection of her mother's voice saying 'if all that's true, Katie, just where do you fit in'?

"Sound pretty nice." She says in a small, heavy voice as she looks away and picks up another glass from the basket.

Rick nods, hating himself for being right and drowns himself in the rest of his drink before slowly setting it back down to the counter. "So, like I said." He starts in a hoarse voice. "It's all I can do to bide my time while you wait for that doctor who saves babies to come and sweep you off your feet to... go make your difference in the world."

Kate smirks to herself. "You saying you don't make some sort of difference, Rick? You're a world-famous novelist." She says obviously.

"Please," Rick waves at her before folding his arms against the bar, "the only time any of my books makes a difference in the world is when some scientist at NASA uses one of them to even out the legs on his chalkboard."

Kate raises her brow as she stops organizing the glasses and takes the bottle of scotch back in her hands. "I've got to say, Rick." She says as she pours him another small shot. "This whole self-deprecation thing is not only pretty depressing, it's also kind of unattractive."

Rick chuckles darkly as he watches her slide his glass back over to him. "I could act more confident and lie to you if you wanted. But I figured you were too smart for that, so I decided to just be a little bit more real."

"There's a difference between being real and trying to make me feel sorry for you, Rick." She says as she stores the scotch back, noticing he's taking his time taking the first drink of his next glass.

"You already said I didn't have a shot." He tells her, lifting her glass up to his lips and looks down into the liquid. "If I wanted to get you to pity me," he says just before he takes another drink, "I would have told you about my childhood spent wandering around the library. But I chose to play that card a little closer to the vest."

"I thought we established that my turning you down had nothing to do with you." She replies and takes the empty basket in one hand. Rick waits until she returns from the other side of the bar after returning the empty basket to continue. "I mean," she starts again with a meager shrug, "you're a good guy. And I had fun at that magic show you took me to. And you're well- _meaning,_ you just... don't always know what to do."

Rick chuckles darkly in his chest again as he lifts his glass up to his lips again. "You're gonna get a lot of mileage out of that news article, aren't you?"

"Can you give yourself a break?" She asks him with a smirk and a raised brow. "It's not like it meant anything. It was a one night stand."

After downing the last of his scotch, he lets the glass slam back down to the counter, looking back over to her with a dark, lidded gaze. "You know, if I had a lot more heartbreak and just a bit more responsibility I wanted to run away from, I just might believe you."

Kate feels herself stop for a moment, looking over to him with a surprising shock in her expression. "What do you mean?"

"There's one thing and one thing only that separates us from animals, Kate, and that's our ability to ask one simple question." He tells her while lifting his index finger to her. "Why."

Kate knits her brow at him. "Why?"

Rick nods and hums his assertion. "Mhm, and if we as humans, the forms of higher cognitive thinking that we are, resort to doing something like sex without asking why, well..." he trails off and looks down into his empty glass, "in my opinion, we might as well set ourselves back a few million years in the evolutionary chain."

Kate feels a veil of seriousness fall over the two of them, getting into territory neither of them realized they were treading. She can sense him falling, sinking closer and closer toward the rim of his empty glass, his eyes getting heavier.

"We're supposed to be better than that." He says under his breath.

She wants to reach out to him, do something simple like put a soft hand on his forearm, take his hand, but she cowards out and decides instead to just make noise to fill the dead air by rearranging the glasses she had just stacked underneath the counter. "We all do things we can't stand, Rick." She says while looking anywhere but his soulful eyes. "And as my mother might say, it's those things that shape us into the people we end up becoming. Whether good or bad, they make us into who we are. It's just up to you to decide which way to go."

Rick lets out a breath, feeling himself relax. "She sounds like a wise woman, your mother."

Not correcting him, all she does is look back up to him, give him a soft, all too heavy smile, and nods, feeling her grief rear it's terrifying head in the pits of her minds again. "And I never said that I wouldn't ever be in a place in my life for Mr. Right. I'm just not in that place right now."

Rick nods and looks away from her again. "Well, that's not me anyway. I've always been more of a Mr. two-wrongs than I am a Mr. Right." Kate chuckles and feels a smile brighten her features as she busies herself with something on the counter.

"Despite your fishing for compliments," Kate says softly, looking over to him with a sly, soft smirk, "you're better than you give yourself credit for."

"Well, I think I'm still in the process of figuring out just who it is I really am." He replies, noticing his lips turned up into a small smile.

"When you're done, would you let me know?" She tells him with a small smile of her own as she turns to go to the other end of the bar.

Rick chuckles to himself and slides off his bar stool to follow her. "Trying to influence my findings, are you?"

"I never said that. All I said was when you do manage to figure it out..." she trails off, picking up a fresh bottle of scotch in her hand and turning back around, "let me know."

Rick turns back around to face her as she goes back to the other end of the bar. "I think you might be looking for someone just a tad more perfect than I, Ms. Beckett."

Kate laughs despite herself and rounds the end of the bar, slowly walking toward him with a soft smile. "Does this mean you're content with waiting around for this..." she says, slowly approaching him and crossing her arms, "fireman slash doctor to show up and steal me away from you?" She asks him, tossing his words back at him jokingly.

"Content? No," He says, "but settling for what I can get while it lasts... sure, maybe." He shrugs.

"A world-famous, eight time best selling novelist who's rich and famous," she shrugs back at him, standing now just a foot away from him, "anyone else would say you just might have a shot over that fireman slash doctor."

"Then I guess it's a good thing that both of us know better." He says, shuffling forward again. "Writing is what I love to do, Kate. I just got very lucky in that I can actually manage a _very_ decent living doing it."

"Well, then maybe I wasn't talking that." She says, catching herself as she meets his eyes, pushing back against everything drawing her into him. "And I'm not looking for someone who's perfect, Rick."

Rick gives her a slow nod before craning his neck and looking down to the floor. "Then just for future reference, what exactly are you looking for?"

 _The person who killed my mother,_ she says in her head. She bites down on the inside of her lip to keep it inside as she feels her eyes sting and throws it off by looking away and giving him a shrug. "Don't go making any drastic changes on my account, okay?" She says with a smile and starts to turn to head back behind the bar. "I like talking to this version of you."

Rick smiles heavily and feels his stomach flutter nervously as she turns and starts to head back behind the bar. "You know, I hear they sell medical degrees on the internet."

Kate catches his eyes again as she rounds the bar. "Still worried someone might 'steal me away'?" She asks him, using air quotes again.

"Oh, always." He says on a chuckle.

"Dispell the paranoia, okay, Rick? I'm not going to let anyone steal me away from you." She says, mocking a caring voice.

"Because you're not mine to steal away from?" He prods, firing back with her own words

She eyes him again as she leans against the other end of the bar. "Goodnight, Rick." She says, giving him a small nod and a smile.

He smiles in return, giving her a soft smirk of his own. "Goodnight, Kate."

* * *

 _A/N may feel like a bit of a filler chapter, but the next chapter is one that_ ive _planned in_ from _the start, so just hang in there ;)_

 _And yes, he is supposed to be like this. It will make sense in the next chapter.  
_


	14. Chapter 14

She caught having to close up again, so the streets are more empty than normal. As empty as they can be for Manhattan at one in the morning.

In her blue cargo jacket that comes just past her waistline, a comfortable snug fit under her grey zip-up hoodie, and her black tennis shoes that she wears for work, Kate walks briskly down the street toward the subway platform to ride back to her apartment for the night. She's missed him at the Haunt for the past week since he last came by. She doesn't know if he's just been busy or because he's decided that she was making it clear that she can't be in a relationship right now.

Whatever it is, she's missed talking with him. When he's not throwing himself a party celebrating his own pity and not trying to dance his way around her, he's actually a really fun guy to talk to. She can match him, wit for wit. She can verbally spare with him with relative ease. He can even be funny at times.

Kate checks her small, ten-dollar, drug store wrist watch only worn to keep track of the time at work, and sees that if she's going to make it home on time, she'll have to take a short cut or two. She looks up ahead of her and decides to cut through an alley in the split second when she passes it. She strides down the alley in a brisk walk, taking her strides long and quick. Something about the stillness of the night in the city tonight is making her lungs feel solid and pounding, making her stomach knot, feeling her breath dissipate before it satisfies her need for air.

The walls feel as if they're closing in on her, ready to fall on her at the slightest misstep. The shadows behind her, the darkness encompassing her feel as if it's slowly growing over her like an abandoned building would be overtaken by weeds and ivy.

"Kate..." a soft voice whispers to her in the stench of the air as it blows down the alley.

She skips a step and stumbles a bit when she sees a dark blue dumpster along the left wall, a large rat running along the wall behind it just as she notices it.

Kate's heart thumps wildly in her chest as she tries to catch her breath, feeling the shadows try to pin her down, almost physically. She can feel them on her.

"Kate..." the whisper beckons her again, becoming clearer in the air.

Kate pries her foot off the ground and forces herself forward toward the dumpster, the stench of the garbage and the litter around it assaulting her senses. Her legs are becoming heavier and heavier with every hard, sporadic thump her heart thuds through her system, her adrenaline spiking through her veins as she feels the shadows tentacle around her. Despite everything jumping wildly in her system, she pushes herself forward until she sees the tip of a black pump on the ground on the other side of the dumpster.

"Katie, I'm here..." the voice becomes clear, low and deathly.

The instant the voice becomes clear in her mind, she forces everything inside of her to her legs, pushing herself forward, being pulled back by the darkened shadows grabbing at her arms and at her shoulders, physically pulling her back. She can feel tears jump out of her eyes and run down her cheeks, blurring her vision as her toes dig into the gravel.

She makes it another couple of feet, struggling with all of her might and all of the strength she's tested herself with her twenty-two years on the earth. She sees her tan lynons, her grey pencil skirt, the sleeves of her matching grey blazer as she lay against the wall behind the dumpster.

"Katie..." She says again, the soft whisper sounding right in Kate's ear.

Kate violently thrashes against the shadows clinging to her, a mysterious force unwilling to just let her get to her. " _Mom!"_ She cries out, but is silent to her own ears.

"Katie..." the voice says again as Kate finally sees her, her light blue blouse clean without a scratch on it, but her face sickly pale and her eyes closed. Her eyes open once Kate looks at her, still pulling against the shadows, and she sees her eyes blotted out with a veil of milky white, looking straight through her. "Save me, Katie."

" _Mom, I'm coming!"_ She tries to scream again, her lungs aching and her vocal cords sore, but still silent to her own ears.

"Katie..." her mother says again as Kate digs her feet into the gravel on the ground, getting closer and closer to her as hard as she tries. "Save me."

Her eyes pouring with hot tears, Kate reaches her arm out to her as she whips and thrashes against the shadows pulling her back.

Her mother's perfectly pressed light blue blouse starts to fade, becoming wrinkled just as a pool of blood starts to grow larger and larger on her abdomen.

" _No! Mom!"_ She tries screaming, but still can't hear herself.

"Save me, Katie..." she lifts up her arm, showing her a pink tulip, reaching it out to her.

 _"Mom!"_ Kate yells as her fingers dangle just an inch away from the flower.

"Save me, Katie..." She says again.

The shadows finally release her and Kate falls forward, but her mother dissipates into a puff of ash the instant she's free, only leaving the pink tulip behind. Kate falls to the ground face first, everything in her coming to a dead halt. She looks up and sees all she's clutching is the pink tulip, wilted and withering, the pedals falling off right before her eyes and turns to ashes in her hands and within seconds, is gone.

" _Noooooooooooo!"_ She finally hears her own screams.

* * *

Kate jumps up in her bed, drenched in a thick layer of cold sweat, her entire body vibrating with adrenaline-driven terror, gasping and heaving for breath. Her eyes are jumping around, flicking from side to side wildly in the total darkness of her bedroom as she thrashes and kicks the bedding off of her legs.

"Mom..." She says in a strained, shaking voice. She leans off to the left of her bed with speed but little to no agility and clatters to the floor, scattering to find herself. Out of breath, she twists herself around and clammers herself backward until her back hits against the wall just below the window.

It's then that her blue vase falls from the window sill and lands on the floor next to her, the yellow, white, and pink tulips tumbling out and scattering across the floor.

The instant she sees them, she snatches them up in her hand and violently tosses them across the room, over her bed, and against the opposite wall of her bedroom. Kate heaves loudly from her place on the floor, trying to catch her breath that only seems more and more out of reach with every loud gasp she takes in. It only takes a few more before her throat constricts and her lungs start to push the air back out in a choked sob. With tears starting to burn her eyes, the next breath is another bout of sobs.

Kate closes her eyes against the tears and pulls her legs up to her chest, craning her neck inside the canyon created between her knees and her chest, hugging her legs to herself as she sobs.

She thought she was over them... but they're only getting worse.

* * *

 _His feet stamped down the grass as he walks through the-_

Rick stops, grimaces as he rereads the sentence, and slams his finger down against the backspace in anger. He readjusts himself in the center of his couch, his feet up on the coffee table, leaned back almost horizontally to prop his head up using the center cushion.

 _Storm treaded through the sod, the dew wetting down his shoes as he walked through the-_

"Ragh!" Rick groans in frustration as he slams his finger down against the backspace again.

Starting a chapter set in a graveyard and he's no idea how to put it. He needs to get the tone right. He has to make the reader feel as if they're there. He needs to paint the picture for the setting and he has no paint. He's never been to a graveyard before. He has no extended family to speak of. The only family he has is his mother and she's going to be with him for a very long time to come. He has no idea what a graveyard feels like, what it smells like, the feeling one gives off when he walks through one.

Shaking his head, he slams his laptop closed, sets it aside, and decides that he needs to do what writers do best besides write. He needs to research.

So, after another hour of showering the lazy day away writing in his pajamas, he throws on some clean clothes, grabs his wool raincoat from the closet beside the door, and heads down to the street, catching a cab and giving him the direction to find a graveyard. The driver, seeming uninterested in why, mentions a few and Rick tells him to pick the one most out of the way. In his mind, the scene isn't set in a graveyard shouldered by skyscrapers and warehouses.

It's an hour and a half drive and a steep fare, but Rick steps out of the cab, telling the driver he can find is own way from here. Not seeming to care if he's leaving his passenger stranded, the driver collects his fare and drives off, leaving Rick standing in front of a large hedge of clover, towering above him a good four feet, with a small walkway cut into the side beside of the road going inside with a large black gate marking the entrance for the funeral procession.

Rick sniffs, shakes out his shoulders against the cold, and starts to trek through the snow.

As he enters the cemetery, seeing the wind blow small flakes of snow off of the headstones, the first thing he feels is small. He doesn't feel allowed to look at any of the grave markers. He doesn't feel allowed to study. This is a place meant for respect. He can almost feel the spirits of each and every one of the graves he passes look at him, not sneering at him or smirking at him, just staring, wondering what brought living flesh to their resting place. As he looks out across the large expanse of the cemetery, narrowing his eyes against the frigid wind, all he can feel is small.

His shoes brush and plow the snow aside as he marches through the cemetery, noticing a few more lines of tracks made fresh in the snow ahead of him. It's the next thing he feels, feeling as if he's invading and violating someone else's place. But he has to shift his perspective. He has to feel as if he's meant to be here. With another cold breath in to solidify himself, he keeps trudging through the snow, following the line of grave markers until he sees a line of trees, creating a small, cozy cove in the far corner of the cemetery.

There's an unearthly beauty to it all. He never liked the idea of having himself buried, left to rot in some wooden box for the rest of time, or until some new civilization digs him back up to make room for the next generation of people going into their own wooden boxes. But being here now, he can understand why people have burials, why people decide to create a place for their lost loved ones. It's not for the dead, it's for the living, it's for the family.

Rick sees the cove in the corner of the cemetery and after a second to focus, he also sees a line of tracks going straight into it, and when he takes a harder look, he notices a slender figure standing in the very back of the cove at one of the grave sites. His throat constricts, almost choking himself when he notices the distinct shoulder length haircut and the snug blue cargo jacket.

Not believing himself, he walks toward the cove, along the opposite side of the tree line. Hiding in the dead trees of winter, her figure becomes clear, standing a distance of fewer than ten yards away or so.

But for her, she smelled his cologne about a minute ago in the air. She's been waiting to see if he'd actually approach her.

Rick waits for a moment before his feet guide him out from behind the trees to stand behind her another ten yards. "What are you doing here, Rick?" She calls out to him, her voice emotionally drained.

Rick stops, his chest tightening. "I..." he tries, pointing behind himself and looking at her from his position adjacent to her. "Research... book research, I was writing and I've never been to a cemetery before, so I-I just..." he trails off, knowing he's rambling.

Kate doesn't turn around to look at him, just keeps facing the same marker she's standing in front of.

He nods to himself and looks down to the snow. "I'll leave you alone."

"Rick," she calls out to him again.

He stops and looks back over his shoulder to her.

"Come over here, please." She says in a steady voice. His heart squeezing painfully in his chest, he walks through the snow in a slow pace and comes to stand behind her a bit, focusing his eyes on her instead of whatever marker she's standing in front of. He still doesn't feel allowed to look. "It's okay, Rick."

He nods to himself and takes the last step he needs, pushes his hands into the pockets of his raincoat, and stands beside her, finally looking down to the maker, showing signs that she'd reached down to brush the snow from the lettering. The heading only reads as her last name, _Beckett._ Underneath, reads _Johanna Beckett,_ and underneath that, _Vincent Omnia Veritas._ The dates at the bottom read February 4th, 1951 to January 9th, 1995.

The pieces fall into place the instant he reads the engraving, and Rick can feel his heartbreak inside of his chest.

"Well?" She says after a minute of him standing beside her. He looks over to her with a sad, but soft arch in his brow. "Aren't you going to ask?"

He looks back down to the marker before answering. "No." She moves her eyes to look at him. "You're a private person, Kate. I don't think I'm even supposed to-"

"Rick!" She says loudly, her voice emotional and demanding. He stops his rambling and sees her looking toward him. "Ask."

He lets out a breath and nods to himself softly. "Was she sick?"

Kate shakes her head, "No."

His throat tightens, not wanting what his mind is telling him to be true. "Car crash?"

He sees a silent tear scream its way down her cheek as it leaks out of her left eye. "No." She answers him in a trembling voice.

He feels his eyes drift shut and his neck crane, his heart aching painfully. "She was murdered."

He watches as her eyes flood with tears, spilling over onto her cheeks. But she keeps as stone-faced as she can, unwilling to fold to the emotion and just decides to reach up and wipe them away. Rick follows her hand as she swats at the tears and when she lets it fall back down to her side, his hand is pulling itself out of his pocket and reaching over, taking her hand in his in a soft grip.

Feeling the warmth of his skin on her palm, her fingers wrap around his hand in a tight grip, something inside of her wanting to cling to a reminder that there are other people in this world, good people.

Kate draws in a congested breath through her sinuses and bats away the tears with her eyelids. "They wrote it off, Rick." She starts painfully, feeling his thumb trace soft, caring patterns onto the back of her hand. "My own mother, and they said it was gang violence." She tells him, her anger starting to boil over her grief. "Police are supposed to care about people. They're supposed to want to help people. Why'd they just write her murder off like that?" She asks him, her voice shaking.

Rick decides to stay silent and hold her hand, feeling it's the best thing he can do for her.

Kate sucks in a strained breath to fuel another wave of emotion. "She bled to death _alone..._ laying in a pile of _garbage_... and they just swept all that up just like the trash she died in! They didn't even _try!"_ She sobs, tears pouring down her face.

Rick can feel his own eyes burn, watching someone this special go through this.

"So," she starts again, drawing in a breath and rolling back her shoulders, still clinging tightly to his hand, "that's why I have to become a cop. I have to show people that their families matter. I have to show them that there are cops out there that care and want to make a difference."

"I-" he cuts himself off, remembering not to speak.

But Kate hears him and turns to look at him with a tight knit in her brow and her face stained with emotion. "What, are you going to say I should just let it go like everyone else says?"

Rick looks down to the snow again and shakes his head, feeling her fingers dig into his hand. "I was going to say that you're a lot stronger than you probably realize." He tells her, looking over to her with a soft expression, disengaging the sneer she turned to him with. "It probably doesn't feel like it right now, but... not that many people would use something like this for something good. I don't think you know the depths of your own strength."

Kate sniffles again and turns back to look down to the headstone. "Do you think she'd be proud of me?" She asks in an emotionally vulnerable voice.

He lets out a soft sigh before answering. "I didn't know your mother, so I'm not going to assume as much to speak for her... but," he trails off, hoping his words help, "I will say that if I had a daughter, I'd want her to make her own happiness a priority over my pride." He tells her, looking over to the tracks of her tears. "Because she'd know that I would always be proud of her."

Kate sniffs again in an attempt to collect herself and gives him a solemn nod.

"But then again," he says and looks back down to the snow, "I haven't been so lucky, so I probably don't know what the hell I'm talking about."

Kate feels her throat tighten as another tidal wave of emotion roars up in her system. "I think you'd make a great dad, Rick."

"I hope to someday." He says after a pause.

Kate feels her eyes burn in that instant. It only takes a second before she snaps them shut and her breath stops, her lungs emptying in a sob. The breath she takes in to stop it only causes another sob to escape. After her body wracks with sobs for the third time, she lets go of his hand and reaches over with both hands, clinging to the wool lapels of his raincoat and pulling herself against his chest, pressing her face into the warm crook of his neck.

Rick doesn't judge her in that moment, nor himself as she pulls at him, fisting the fabric of his coat in her hands and sending warm huffs of breath against his neck as she cries silently. His arms snake themselves around her back and after a moment, he starts caressing the dip of her spine, hoping to soothe her emotions away with what little support he can offer her. She's trying her hardest to pull back as much emotion as she can, not breaking down and just letting it all out, but drawing in congested heaves and holding them, wanting to will the emotion away.

He stays silent for the long few minutes she uses him for support and after a while, she flattens her hands against his chest and softly pushes herself back, having his arms move out from around her and land on her waist.

"So," she says in a more feigned casual tone, "now you know." She tells him, looking up to him with a stern expression. "This is the path I'm on. This is why I can't afford a relationship right now." Drawing in another emotionally fueled breath, she realizes she isn't removing her hands from his chest, and isn't shaking his off of her. "I need to become a cop to show people that what happened to my mother doesn't have to happen to anyone else. I need to dedicate myself completely to _this_ path, Rick."

He lets out a sad sigh and cranes his neck, not wanting to resolve himself to this fate of losing her.

"Listen," she starts again, taking a small shuffle forward and getting his attention back by petting his chest with her hands, "you're a great guy, Rick." She feels herself stop, her heart fluttering painfully as she rolls her tear-laden eyes to herself. "You're a _really..._ great guy. You could," she stops to take in another breath, "have any woman in the city you wanted."

"But..." he says despite everything inside of him telling him to keep quiet, "what if I don't want any other woman, Kate?" He asks her, wanting to tug on her waist. "What if I just want you?"

"No, Rick?" She tells him, looking away from him with emotion still staining her voice as she pushes him back with her hands on his chest. "You can't, okay?"

"Kate, I'm not looking to be the guy to solve all of your problems for you. I just-"

"Rick, just..." she trails off, stepping forward again and framing his jaw with her hand, leaning up and pressing a firm kiss to his jawline, a simple, tender kiss goodbye. She pulls her lips off of his cheek with a soft pluck and leans back down with another wave of fresh tears in her eyes. "Goodbye, Rick."

Without another word, she steps around him, letting her hand linger on his chest as she takes off out of the cemetery.

Rick is left putting his hand over hers as she drags it off of him, taking it with her while walking away from him. Looking over his shoulder, he can see her walk away from him briskly, reaching up to swat away tears from both sides of her face.

His heart in pieces, he looks down to the snow again.

He's been making himself scarce at the Haunt but his own sake. But now, he'll have to make himself absent for her's.

* * *

 _A/N: Another chapter that inspired me to write this story and I finally got to write it. Busted it out in just under two hours. Hope you like it. Let me know and keep them reviews coming strong! :)_


	15. Chapter 15

Slowly running the wooden spoon through the rich sauce, following her mother's recipe exactly, Kate can only feel her heart numb over, only because it's sick of having to deal with the pain. Hitting the same spot, eventually, it just becomes numb no matter how many times it gets hit, and it stops hurting. Maybe it's just because the sauce doesn't smell quite the same. Maybe it was just a touch too much thyme. She accidentally shook the spice from the wrong opening and put about double the amount the recipe called for.

She's back at home tonight, a week after last visiting her mother's grave. She only came over to make him dinner as a safe guard, in case he decided to stick to his old ways and remember her birthday. Her dad was always very disciplined, more so than his wife, about remembering the important dates, her birthday second only to their anniversary.

And today is her birthday. It was a day that they'd celebrate two-fold; the time spent together with her daughter and her family, celebrating her birthday with her entire family, some extended family driving down from Connecticut some years, most just having a late lunch or early dinner with the three of them, but at night, it was just her and her husband, going out to a dinner reservation in the city for just the two of them. It's a heartbreaking reminder that she knows he has to live with, a reason why she hasn't been so hard on him to go into rehab or even sit in on an AA meeting or two.

Unlike most people, he actually found the love of his life, and lost her.

Kate lifts the wooden spoon out of the sauce as she contemplates and takes a small, hesitant taste. It tastes right, a bit too much spice maybe, but it's right.

"Dad!" She calls through the apartment, letting the spoon sink back down into the pan, quickly stepping over to the cupboard to take two plates down from the shelf. "Dad, it's ready." She calls again.

She hears the floor creak as he comes down the hallway in a slow pace. She doesn't turn to look at him and instead dishes out a plateful of pasta from the strainer sitting on the counter beside the stove, feeling her dad drag his feet into the kitchen behind her. She only looks over her shoulder at him when she takes the other plate from the counter and goes to hand it to him. He's at least in a more decent, relaxed attire of a grey plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of grey tennis shoes with white toes.

He takes the plate and nods at her once. She doesn't feel slighted when he doesn't thank her and just goes about dishing out his own helping of pasta. Her dad was always more emotionally reserved, more drawn back and guarded. Her mother was always the one that seemed to even him out. She's learned that he doesn't like exposing his vulnerable side through his emotions without his wife by his side to let him know he's not going through it alone.

So, when all he gives her is a simple nod and the slightest resemblance of a smile as he moves between her and the counter to spoon out the sauce over his plate of pasta, she doesn't feel insulted or unwanted. It's just the way he is. She's only here to make sure he stays stable, not get better.

Kate moves silently over to the table just outside of the kitchen and sits down in the heightened chair that sits under the lifted table of the dining area. She sets her plate in front of her and meanders in her grabbing for a napkin, waiting for him to join her at the table. She looks over as she fiddles with the holder and sees him grabbing for the loaf of bread and a butter knife. She feels a small, reverent smile push itself onto her face as she looks away.

When she sees him go for the peanut butter from the fridge, she bites her tongue. Mom was always the first to poke fun at his unusual habit of eating spaghetti with a piece of bread with peanut butter on it. It's a weird quirk that her dad always seemed to enjoy defending. He generously smears the peanut butter on the bread and sets it on the side of his plate, moving over to the table across from her just as she's taking up her fork.

And it's not until he sits down across from her that she notices the small clear glass and the eighth inch of clear liquid sitting at the bottom.

Her numb heart hardens as she looks back down to her plate and twists the first of her dinner up onto her fork. "You feeling any better?" She asks just before sticking the pasta into her mouth.

Jim gives her a nod as he picks up the peanut-buttered bread. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Kate nods nihilistically, not really believing him. "So, the doctor took you off the medication then?" She asks him, looking back up to him as she hunches over her plate. Jim looks up to her, somewhat pointedly and she reacts be pointing to his glass with her fork as she chews her pasta.

Jim shakes his head and stabs his pasta with his fork with a bit of a hard clang against the porcelain of the plate. "I feel fine, Katie."

Kate nods and looks down to her plate again. "Is the sauce okay?" She asks, wanting to change the subject only to avoid conflict with him. After he doesn't give her an answer, she tries again. "I tried to follow Mom's recipe, but I think I added too much spice."

Jim swallows his food and picks his bread back up. "Your mother had her secrets, Katie." He says, and Kate knows he's cutting himself off. He's never liked reminiscing about her with her around too much. "She planned on passing them on, but..." Jim starts, surprising her and making her set her fork back down to her plate, her arm falling down to the table. "You know, just like her mother had with her, but..." Jim shakes his head and hides his expression behind a forkful of pasta, "you wanted to travel with your friends."

The first hit finally cracks through the numbness encasing her heart. Letting her fork clang back down to her plate, she sits up in an immediate reaction to defend herself. "Traveling was Mom's idea, Dad."

Not shaking his calmness, or his deep-seeded resentment for the situation, Jim cranes his neck and gives her a blank stare. "It was your idea, Katie. She just didn't want to disappoint you so she encouraged you to go with your friends instead."

Kate can feel the back of her eyes want to burn, feeling as if her dad was just waiting for the right time to snipe her with this. "Mom wanted me to go out and experience the world. She's the one that said it was the best time in my life."

"And you experienced the world by driving to Las Vegas with your friends for a month?" He argues back, reaching for his glass while a twinge of frustration starts to put an edge on his voice.

"If Mom didn't want me to go, then why didn't she just say so?" She starts the argument with him.

But her dad shakes his head and looks to his plate, avoiding the angry, firey eyes of his daughter. "I was the one that didn't want you to go, Katie. Your mother just wanted to see you happy. She was the litigator, so trying to tell her that you going off for the summer after your graduation had absolutely nothing to do with experiencing anything and everything with you just wanting to party, doing God knows what, was pointless." He says back at her, his voice raising more and more with every syllable leaving his mouth.

Kate throws herself back in her chair and rolls her eyes. "I was _not-_ "

"Please," he stops her, narrowing his eyes to see through her while raising his hand at her, "Katie, I don't want to hear it. The 'I told you so' approach was your mother's idea."

"Well, Dad, I know I've done some stupid things in the past," Jim lets out a hard chuckle over his mouthful of spaghetti when she says that, "but that was different. In case you don't remember, I'm planning on being a cop, okay?"

He seems to grit his teeth at he shakes his head and grabs for his glass, downing the rest of the clear liquid as he swallows. "Please, don't remind me."

Kate feels her heart fall into her stomach. "What..." she tries, at a loss for an argument back at him, "what do you mean?"

Jim looks back up to her with a bit of a sneer. "You were pre-law at Stanford, Katie." He tells her with a twinge in his expression. "Your mother was at least happy that you were following in her footsteps. She dies and you decide to give all that up."

Her eyes are burning and her emotions are roaring back up in a riptide. "Dad, I didn't _give up_ anything! I'm becoming a cop to help people!" She shouts back at him loudly.

It's then that he surprises her by shooting to his feet, sending the chair falling backward. "You're becoming a cop to go after her murderer, Katie. Don't think you can pull that on me." He fights back at her.

Kate climbs out of her chair and stands up to fight back just as hard. "And what if I am?" She shouts. "Someone out there killed Mom and got away with it because of the complacent police in this city and every day that her killer isn't caught is another day that the police are saying to everyone in this city that they _don't care!"_

"Your mother never wanted that, Katie, and you know it." He shouts back at her as he meanders away from her and into the living room.

"Mom was a _civil rights_ lawyer, Dad. This is exactly the kind of thing she practiced law for. What are you-"

"Don't tell me what your mother was, Katie. That woman was the love of my life!"

"I _know_ that, Dad. But-"

"And you really think your honoring her with this plan of yours to throw on a police uniform and throw yourself to the wolves? You think that's going to somehow bring her back?"

That sends her heart falling to her feet as everything inside of her drains of life. "You're saying you don't want me to be a cop?" She asks in a trembling voice.

"Of course not, Kate! You think I'm ready to lose my only daughter to this too?" He fires back, angrily pacing about the living room, looking ready to snap.

And when it finally hits her, just how alone she is in her pursuit for justice, she feels completely and utterly powerless. "Dad," she starts in a small, shaking voice, "I know you don't like it," she pleads and moves around the table toward him, "but I need your support in this!"

"My only daughter is putting herself in front of every criminal in this city. What are you waiting for me to say, Katie? I told you so?"

"What do you _want_ , Dad?!" She pleads with him, tears in her eyes as she watches him painfully make for the front door.

Jim snatches the door knob and yanks the front door open. "I want my wife back." He pulls door shut behind him in a loud thud with that.

" _Dad!"_ She yells after him when all she hears is his footsteps stamping down the hallway outside the door until they dissipate. Kate grits her teeth and screams. " _Aaahhh!"_ She seethes and grips and thrashes at the air around her. When she turns back to storm back into the kitchen, pressing her palms into her eyes as her emotions engulf her, she realizes now how alone she'll have to be if she's to do this alone. When not even her own father supports her, she has no other choice in her life but to succeed.

And right now, it's too much.

Feeling a sob convulse inside of her, churning her stomach up into itself, she staggers back into the kitchen and leans down to the counter, her hands pressed into her eye sockets to try and dam the tears up as she sobs. That's why he's been falling off the wagon of functional alcoholic so hard lately. It was all her commitment to joining the police force and becoming a cop that did it. He probably thought it was a fib, or maybe even a dream when she was still attending college, but ever since she took her early graduation after the fall semester and had to quit her job on campus and started working at the Haunt, it's made her commitment to the cause and to her path that much more real.

And there's not a soul on the planet backing her up. He doesn't even believe she can do it.

After another intense wave of sobs wracks and weakens her body, she sits back up and sucks back as much emotion as she can, but it only lasts for a second before she's staggering over to the fridge and yanking the door to the freezer open. She knew he'd have something. It helps him when he has no one, why wouldn't it help her?

She grabs the neck of the bottle and pulls it out with a clench of her jaw.

* * *

Rick thrashes around again in his bed, kicking about at the tangled mess of sheets and swatting at the matted lumps of his pillow, unable to get comfortable.

On another long sigh hoping to tire himself, he flips himself around to lay on his side facing the door to his bedroom and pulls at the comforter again, forcefully burying his head down into the pillow, hoping it will stay there this time. His eyes pop open after a moment, not letting him sleep. He had a signing today and someone had apparently seen the article on page six and had asked about it. After telling the blushing woman all she was was a dance partner for the night, the woman smiles, thanked him for signing her book and left.

Cutting himself off from the Haunt has been a challenge, but she said goodbye. Based on whose weakness, he doesn't want to delve into. But as he told his mother when she came over to have dinner with him that night after her happened upon her in the cemetery, he doesn't think he'll ever meet anyone like her again. To which, his mother candidly reminded him that that's exactly what he said after Kyra had left. The only distinction in the situation is that Kate had the courtesy to say goodbye.

Kyra just left.

After another couple of minutes sitting in the dark, he hears a loud, almost clumsy knock sound through his apartment.

His head jumps off the pillow a bit, waiting for the sound to come again. After a few more seconds, it does, a clumsy knock on his door, this time with a voice sounding as if it's trying to speak through the door.

"What the hell? It's two in the morning." He says to the shadows in the room and tosses the bedding off his legs, grabs his bright blue t-shirt from the floor that he'd tossed from his body in an attempt to get more comfortable and starts to pull it over his head as he quickly makes his way out into the living room. He flips on the light in the living room just as another knock sounds on the door.

"Mister Caaaaaastle?" She singsongs from outside as she knocks again.

Rick's brow knits hard as he quickly makes for the door, unlocks the lock, and pulls the door open to find Kate in her blue jacket and blue jeans, the bottoms wet from walking through the snow. Shocked, he looks up to her to see her with somewhat of a lazy smile on her face with her hair falling down to her shoulders in a bit of a wave.

"There you-" She stops as she starts into his apartment, only to have her foot get caught on the door jam and send her falling forward.

He reacts quickly and puts his arms out to catch her, having her chest land into the curve of his arm as his other arm quickly goes around her to catch her as she falls. "Kate?" He finally asks her as she falls into his arms. He starts to lift her back up and get her to her feet, his worry and paranoia spiking. Once he pushes her back up right, he sees she has a bright, laughing smile on her face as she laughs hysterically.

She sloshes from side to side as his hands stay on her arms to help her steady, still cracking up in hysterics. She reaches up with her finger and flicks his nose. "Good catch." She tells him in a high pitched voice as she laughs.

"Kate, what's wrong?" He asks as he keeps a firm grip on her arms. "Is everything okay?"

Her eyes haze over and her smile turns lazy, her head still moving about as she tries to find which way is up. "I..." she stops as she lifts up her finger in front of her, closing her mouth to swallow whatever it is rising up her throat, a sour breath or a burp, "I found my dad's secret stash."

Rick's brow pinches again as he keeps ahold of her. "Your what?"

"Wasn't exactly a secret, if you know what I mean." She says as her smile starts to brighten again.

Rick looks her over and tightens his grip on her arms again. "You're drunk."

"Mmm," she hums and steps forward, pushing his arm off of her and sloshes her way passed him. "And you're..." she says as he turns to face her, watching as she stops and spins around haphazardly, pointing her finger at him, "you're cute."

Rick double takes as the words leave her mouth.

Kate's drunken smile brightens again as she takes another sloppy step toward him. "Blue looks so good on you." She says as she sends him a lidded gaze which makes his system tighten with worry. "Brings out your eyes, you know?"

"Okay," he starts and raises his hands up, "Kate, you're drunk. So let's just-"

She cuts his words off by sending herself forward and slamming her lips onto his, throwing her arms around his shoulders and making his back hit against the door to his apartment, using his back to shut it as she kisses him. Taken off guard, his entire body freezes as she pulls at his head to deepen her kiss, his body unable to push her incredibly soft lips off of him or shove her perfect, slender body off of his torso as she presses herself into him. His spine quaking and his heart pounding, lips responding despite everything telling him not to, she moves her hands down his jawline and finally lets him go with a soft pluck.

He can feel her smile softly against his lips and let out a long, happy sigh. "Oh my god..."

Rick pulls back and lifts his hand to his lips, her breath fanning off of him and finally hitting his senses. "What the hell were you drinking? WD-40?"

"Oh my god, you're an _incredible_ kisser." She says in a slurred tone as she slowly starts to fall forward into him again.

His senses coming back to him, he takes a hold of her waist and starts to push her back as he chuckles despite himself. "You're more drunk than I thought." He mutters as she puts her hand to his hair and moves to kiss him again. Rick reaches quickly by pushing himself out from between her body and the door, jumping away from her a good couple of feet. "Kate?"

Kate turns to him, her hair falling sexily in front of half her face. "Come on, Rick. What's wrong?"

"Kate, you're drunk." He says again as he lifts his hands up to her.

"Oh come," she starts and grabs onto his wrist, " _on,_ Rick!" She tells him, pulling herself up to him. "I want this. Now I know you want me too." She says in a husky voice as her eyes focus on his lips.

Rick grabs onto her waist to keep her at as much of an arms distance as she'll let him. "Yes, but I also want to be able to live with myself." He tells her and pushes her back.

And with that, Kate's smokey expression turns to an angry frown. Suddenly, she takes her hand and sends it to his chest, shoving him back a bit, but only causing herself to stagger back a few steps into his living room. "What the hell is the matter with you?" She asks him angrily as she tosses her arms out. "What, am I not good enough for you all the sudden? New York's most eligible bachelor number six too busy for me, is that is?" She drunkenly fights with him.

"Nine," he corrects her to himself. "And that's not-"

"No, no, I get it." She throws her arms out to him again, giving him an angry shrug as she sloshes around to search for her footing again. "You're too good for me? Then fine! I'll just leave then." She says and turns to make for the door.

That sends every single alarm bell Rick has in his head sounding loudly. " _Wait!"_ He cries and grabs for her arm, jumping up to her and pulling her to him.

"Let _go_ of me!" She fights back at first, her arms lazily trying to fight him off until she realizes her body is too out of control.

Rick immediately loosens his grip on her to only gently hold her arms to him, taking a moment to decide on his approach. This woman, someone he cares about, is in anything but her right mind. She's drunk, vulnerable, out of control, and needs to be somewhere safe. So, Rick puts a smirk onto his face and wags his brow at her charmingly.

"You're right." He tells her in a soft voice with a smirk.

Kate smiles over at him as her head continues to move about, her eyes brightening, showing her pupils almost completely dilated.

"After all," he feigns, looks down, and grabs for her waist, lower than he ever has before and squeezes. "What's the harm, right?"

"Right," she smiles as her hands find his chest.

"Just," he stops her, craning his neck and looking at her with a raised brow, "give me a minute to-to uh..." he stammers, looking away for a second before coming up with a phrase in his mind, "freshen up." He finishes with a smile. "And I'll be back, so just..." he tells her, starting to push her backward toward the couch. "Just sit down over there... make yourself comfortable, relax..." he says to her slowly, "and I'll be back, okay?"

Her eyes flick down to his lips again and without warning, she starts to go after him to capture his lips again.

But Rick's hand flys up and stops her, making her lips land on the pads of his fingers instead. Kate opens her eyes widely at him and he smiles. "Save it for later, okay?"

His fingers being pressed against her lips, Kate smiles brightly, her eyes crinkling at him and Rick feels his heart clench, seeing how beautiful, even now, she looks when she smiles as full as that. She's so breathtaking when she smiles fully like she is now. His breath is caught when she opens her teeth and grasps his fingertips in between them in a light grasp. She reaches up and flicks the tip of his nose again with her finger and snaps at his fingernail with her teeth and spins around.

Rick lets out a long breath when she starts toward the couch and starts to move down the hall.

"Oh, Mr. Castle?" He hears her call again.

Rick turns, sending his back into the corner of the wall into the hallway. He looks just as she's dragging her jacket down her arms, rolling her shoulder and wagging her brow at him over her shoulder before peeling her jacket off and holding it out to her side with one hand and giving it a flick, letting her hand dangle in the air. His stomach folding at how sexy she's being, he forces himself down the hall toward the door to the bathroom. Once he's inside, he closes the door behind him, leaning back against it and clutching at his chest while his heart pounds wildly.

Out of breath and broken out in a cold sweat, he shoves off the door knob and goes to the sink, turning it on and splashing himself with ice cold water, scrubbing his hands over his face. He breathes a heavy breath and shakes his head, trying to rid himself of very impure thought she assaulted him with. Steeling himself, he turns back to the door, slowly cracks it open and starts back out toward the living room.

He makes it half way down the hall way and peaks out into the living room where he can see her in the corner of the couch, leaned back with her legs sprawled out in front of her and her head down onto the cushion, passed out soundly.

"Oh, thank god..." he breathes out as he runs his hand through his hair.

Rick breathes slowly and gazes at her, his heart aching. She's just so special. The thought that she's putting herself through this for whatever reason breaks his heart. Rick steps up to her and kneels down, slowly and carefully pulling her running shoes off her feet before standing up and moving her splayed out arms into her lap and carefully taking her up in his arms. With Kate sleeping soundly in his arms, he slowly carries her down the hall and into his bedroom, setting her down into his bed and moving the covers over her.

On a sad sigh, he reaches up, feeling scared to wake her, and traces his finger across her cheek to brush her hair from her angelically beautiful face. "I'm not looking to be the guy to solve all of your problems, Kate." He says, continuing what he wanted to tell her at the cemetery when they last met. "I just don't think you should have to go through it alone."

Rick stands back up, sets the waste basket near his dresser by the nightstand, moves for the door and closes it behind him as he exits.

* * *

 _A/N: A lot of people were thinking there'd be a time jump. As I said in PM's to a few people, it would be an interesting premise, but not what I had planned. Hope you guys liked this. Drunken Kate scene was one I had in my head a long time. Hope it fits. Let me know and keep reviews coming! :)_


	16. Chapter 16

"Mmm..." she groans weakly, grabbing the comforter and tugging it over her with a light fist, burying her nose against it and letting her entire body sink back down into the relief of sleep. Still in the shackles of slumber, she draws a long breath in through her nose and feels a sleepy smile sneak onto her face when the scent of a light ocean breeze and the hint of old book pages fills her senses. Something about the scent seems to relax her and make the temptation of sleep seem like a command she has no choice but to follow.

When she sucks in another breath in through her nostrils and the scent hits her again, the cobwebs start to get shaken from her mind. Her bed doesn't smell like this. And as she starts to rustle around in her bed, her legs moving down the expanse of the mattress, the next thing she realizes is she still has her jeans and her blouse on. Her blouse is uncomfortably bunched up at the arms and is twisted annoyingly around at the waist. The very next thing her body reminds her of is whatever happened last night, it's time to pay for it.

"Uuhhh..." she groans again against the comforter pulled to her face as she reaches up with a very weak and very heavy arm to place a hand over her face, still unable to open her eyes.

There's a clamp sitting around her head, squeezing her temples together and wanting to squish her brains out of her ears. There's a thick coat of slime covering the walls of her mouth. There's a barrier of crust in her eyes that's making it almost impossible to open her eyes for the day. There's a stark emptiness in her stomach, waiting for the right time to rumble loudly to remind her that it needs filling. The blood powering her limbs seems to be concentrated all in her chest just to keep her heart beating, making them heavy and useless.

She knows this feeling well. She hasn't felt like this in a very long time. Not since her trip to Vegas after graduation.

And when that thought enters her mind, the last thing that's clear in her mind seems to trickle back into her memory. It only makes the unbearable reality outside of these sweet-smelling sheets that much more impossible to face. The fight with her dad, the heartbreaking blow out they had, the one person she had left, someone she thought would at the very least always support her, the one last bastion of support she had pulled itself out from under her.

Against the inhibition telling her to just stay in bed and enjoy this sweet scent, that somehow brings pictures of work in her mind, she slowly peels her eyes open. The instant her vision focuses, her body jolts violently in fear.

" _Ah!"_ She yelps as she tosses the comforter off of her, sitting upright and scattering to crawl her way back until her back hits against the padded headboard, covered in a lining of leather. Once her eyes stop going about the room in a panic, she starts to take in her unfamiliar surroundings.

The bedding has a dark blue bedsheet made of silk, the comforter is dark black and as she clutches it tightly in one hand, it feels as if it's Egyptian cotton. The carpet of the bedroom is a darker tan color. There's a dark chestnut dresser to the left of her next to the closed door to the bedroom with five levels of drawers, all seeming to mesh into the front creating a flat surface save for the square silver knobs marking each drawer. There's a large vanity mirror sitting on top, with a few trinkets sitting on the surface.

The walls are painted a dark blue and on the wall in front of her, is a large black and white portrait of a lion, staring right at her. She jumps back into the firm padding of the headboard again when she sees the lion, its hungry eyes seeming to bore right into her soul. Who the hell would have a giant picture of a lion facing directly toward their own bed? Some kind of masochistic nutjob?

There's a set of two windows looking out to the city with white curtains drawn on either side of the wall to her right, but in the center between the two windows is a single picture frame, looking like a framed letter. Kate checks the door to see if anyone is coming before she kicks the comforter off her legs and slowly gets to her feet to the right side of the bed and gets to her feet. She looks to her right once she's on her feet and sees the door on the right side of the bed is cracked, going into a large walk-in closet. All she can see inside is a line of button-up dress shirts of various colors.

Kate looks back to the frame on the wall and takes a few slow steps toward it until the wording comes close enough for her to read it.

 _Dear Richard Rodgers,_

 _After reading your manuscript titled In A Hail Of Bullets, we regret to inform you that we will not be publishing it. Your writing style lacks coherent structure for mystery novels, the characters seem driven by nothing tethered to the story, and the dialogue is amateurish. The copy you sent us will be kept on file for future consideration. We wish you luck, but urge you not to contact us again._

 _Thank you for your interest in Akashic Books._

"Rodgers?" She asks out loud. "But... In A Hail Of Bullets was..."

That was Richard Castle's first novel. One of her favorites. She's reread it dozens of times. This is... this is Rick's bedroom. This is Rick's bed, his dresser, his closet, his rejection letter, his cologne on the sheets. She's in Rick Castle's bedroom, when the last thing she remembers is drowning herself in shot glass after shot glass of the vodka she found in the freezer at home. Kate looks down to herself, seeing her crumpled up and wrinkled white blouse, her wrinkled jeans, and her lime green ankle socks.

Kate shakes her head slowly, pressing her hand through her tangled mess of hair as her face twists apart in an expression of sorrow, guilt, and shame.

"What the hell did I do?" She asks herself.

Blinking her eyes hard, she moves around the bed, her delicate equilibrium telling her how fragile it is right now, and gets to the door, slowly pulling the door open and poking her head out. At the end of the hallway to the left is the door to the bathroom. The thought that it's another room to hide in, she makes for it on the balls of her feet to sneak through the space, hearing the TV on from the other end of the apartment. She quickly gets through the door and eases the door shut, now standing in the darkness.

She blindly pads for the light switch and when she finds it and flicks the light on, she turns and comes face to face with the large barrel of a gun.

" _Oh!"_ She yelps again as she slams back against the wall, clutching her chest. " _God!"_ She groans with her eyes closed.

Her breath coming in loud huffs, she opens her eyes and sees it's merely a lifesize statue of Boba Fett, his trademark blaster held up and pointed toward the door, with a dark red towel being hung from the bend of his elbow. Kate catches her breath after a few more pants, pulling at the buttons of her blouse and pushing off the wall and making for the toilet.

After taking care of bodily functions, she flushes and hesitantly makes for the door.

As quietly as she can, she pads her way down the hall, seeing the large expanse of the living room, with a black leather couch sitting against the wall under a large art piece of a spiral staircase. She can see her shoes sitting beside the dark walnut coffee table on the floor. The next thing she hears is the distinct orchestral background music of an old cartoon. She hears a very familiar scream come from the TV and she recognizes it immediately as Tom and Jerry.

"Hphmmm," she hears a soft chuckle come from around the corner above the soft slink of dishes.

Shoving her hair out of her face, straightening the tangled strands with her fingers, she creeps down the hall, guiding herself with her hand on the wall until she slows to a stop at the threshold of the living room and pokes her head out from around the corner. He comes into view, standing in the kitchen, which has a decor of a black tile backsplash, a large silver refrigerator right next to where she's poking her head out from, a small island in the center, with a peninsula separating the kitchen from the living room.

She can see him standing in the far corner of the kitchen, clad in a pair of blue and red plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a bright blue t-shirt, clinging tightly to his broad shoulders, making her already slime-coated mouth go dry. With a small layer of scruff, he's standing in his kitchen barefoot, smiling contently as he fiddles with something down on the counter.

"Uh..." she starts, making the first noise she can think of to make her presence known.

Rick looks up with a content smirk and a raised brow, his smile being pulled away as he sees her, but his eyes brightening to make up for it. He stays silent, still gauging her scared and confused expression as she leans out of the hallway and looks into the kitchen.

"Hi," is all she can manage.

The cartoon on the TV ends with the ending theme song and Rick gives her a soft nod. "I suppose asking you what you remember would be a bit of a stupid question."

Kate blinks blankly before pushing her hair out of her face again and shuffling forward into the entrance to the kitchen. "Uh..." she tries again, "what am I doing here?" She asks him, not wanting to look him in the eye.

She woke up in his bed, he's in here in his pajamas, her blouse is misbuttoned, her jeans aren't feeling right on her legs, it wouldn't be the first time she's taken someone to bed and woken up after misdressing herself.

"Umm..." Rick starts quietly as he judges on his approach. "Are you hungry?" He asks her, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

Kate opens her eyes with her hand in her hair, seeing him smiling at her nervously. "Did... did we..." she tries to get the words out.

But Rick decides to go about it softly and not toss it in her face all at once and lifts his arm up to the peninsula. "Want to sit down? I'll find something to make you feel better."

Not having the strength to argue with him, she follows his direction and slowly drags her feet into the living room and over to the peninsula, seeing two stools with black leather cushions under the counter. She places her hand on the back of the farthest one and slowly climbs onto it, spinning herself around in the stool, nervously putting her hands in her lap and watching him move about the kitchen on the other side of the counter.

"So," she starts quietly as he opens a cupboard next to the fridge, feeling her headache make itself known, "are we going to talk about it?" She asks him as he moves over to the fridge with a clear glass in his hands. Rick only looks over to her with a small quirk in his brow as he puts the glass underneath the ice dispenser and pours a small glass of water. "Or are we going to pretend like last night never happened?"

Rick looks back over to her with a smirk, reaches into the island and pulls out a small white bottle of Asprin. "It would be pretty easy," he says, setting the glass in front of her and twisting the bottle of Asprin open for her, "considering that nothing _did_ happen." He tells her, shaking out two small pills onto his palm. "Here."

Rick lets the Asprin fall to the counter in front of her and she quickly grabs for them. After tossing the pills down her throat and downing the ice cold water, she lets the glass go back down to the counter with a thud. "What?"

Rick moves to the other side of the kitchen as he lifts his arms up and spins around. "Just because I let myself get taken advantage of while under the influence of alcohol doesn't mean I have to let others do the same." He tells her and spins back around, opening the cupboard above the large, coffee shop sized espresso machine in the corner of the kitchen. "Especially not a friend of mine."

She watches as he takes down a white mug and goes about to fiddle with the espresso machine. "So... we didn't sleep together?" She asks him, forcing the words out as her body tenses.

Rick pinches his brow as he looks over his shoulder at her, "Of course not, Kate. You were drunk."

A long and heavy sigh of relief floods out of her lungs. "Thank god."

Rick chuckles to himself as the mug clatters against the counter. "I'm going to decide _not_ to take that as an insult." Running her hand over her aching forehead, she leans her elbow against the counter. "Although you did kiss me." He points out, not looking back to her.

She stops, looking at him through her fingers. "Huh?"

"In my defense," he starts as he turns back to her again with part of the espresso machine in his hand, "you kind of ambushed me."

"So," Kate starts again, her brain still aching as she tries to grasp at the vague strands of memory, "what exactly happened then?"

Rick turns around with a large metal cup in his hand and a white mug in the other. "You came to my door, falling down drunk, I got you to stay here while I hid in the bathroom and you passed out on my couch." He says casually. "After that, I carried you to my bed because I didn't want you to sleep off all that alcohol on my couch."

"But," Kate tries but fails, not understanding that if she was ambushing him by kissing him, he clearly wasn't accepting her advances, "why'd you keep me here?" She asks him as he goes into the fridge for the milk. "I mean, if..." she lets the words fall when she hears him chuckling softly.

"Kate, you were drunk. I couldn't exactly count on every other guy in Manhatten to be as gentlemanly at two in the morning, could I?" Rick says, pulling out a carton of milk and putting it down to the island. "I didn't want anything to happen to you, so I kept you here."

Kate feels a flutter in her chest, a small bundle of butterflies flicks around in her system as he recounts the events from last night. She looks back down to her lap and brushes her hair behind her ear. "Well, thanks then." She tells him as he smirks softly at her, pouring the milk into the metal cup sitting on the island. "For looking out for me."

Rick smiles at her as he finishes pouring the milk, giving her a small, casual shrug. "Always." He tells her, screwing the top back onto the milk and setting it down to the counter. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Something about his wording, what friends are far, makes a weight fall back into her system. "Right," She says and looks away from him.

"Uh..." Rick starts, looking between her and the espresso machine. "Here, let me make you something." He tells her, moving the cup around in front of him.

She looks up to him and lifts her hand. "No, Rick, I don't drink coffee, remember?"

Rick sends her a grin as he takes up the metal cup in his hand again. "Let me guess, you were raised by parents who drank Folgers or Maxwell House and tried to pass it off to you as real coffee, didn't you?"

Kate pinches her brow at him. "Since when are you such a snood when it comes to coffee?"

Rick grins at her again. "Since I worked at a roastery as a barista when I was in college. Just try something for me, okay? I'll feel bad if you walk out of here without at least letting me make you something."

She doesn't have the energy to either fight him or let him down. She tosses her hand up in the air, waving the proverbial white flag to him, before letting it fall limply back down to the counter. "Okay, fine."

Rick smiles proudly to himself and spins around, opening the cupboard below the espresso machine to his different flavors, seeing what he has. He takes the mug in his hands as his fingers trace the labels of the bottles on the shelf. Something sweet, maybe sugar-free, she'd probably want something healthy, something a little more natural maybe. At the very end, he finds what he's looking for and puts the mug underneath the sugar-free vanilla and pumps one squirt of flavoring inside. His fingers hesitate before moving away. Maybe just a little more, he thinks as he pumps another shot inside.

He stands back up and moves to the fridge, looking over his different selections of milk before finding something that might suit her. He takes the skim and pours some into the metal cup and then moves over to the espresso machine, prepping the portafilter and within moments, the steam is shooting out of the wand and he's pouring her latte into the white mug on the counter.

With a proud smile, he turns around to her, seeing an expression of anxious nervousness on her face, and slides the mug over to her. "Try this."

Hesitantly, and with a weak muscled arm, she lifts the mug up to her lifts, drawing in a hesitant sniff. It smells pretty good, anyway. Throwing caution to the wind, she places her lips against the edge of the mug and sucks in a small sip, letting the extremely rich flavor hit her pallet and the aroma fill her senses as the foam slides down her throat.

"Mmm!" She hums in delight as she looks down to the cup. "That is..." she starts, separating her words by taking another far less cautious sip of her coffee, " _really_ good."

Rick smiles to himself, feeling pride fill his chest, as he turns around and puts the milk back, quickly taking out the eggs, the sausage links, and the butter.

"Wow," she whispers to herself as she takes another sip of her coffee.

"You open for a little breakfast?" He asks her, even though he's already heating up the skillet on the stove.

"Hmm?" She asks him, entranced by the coffee in her hand. "Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever." She waves him off as she takes another delightful sip. "Wow."

After another couple of minutes, Rick has two eggs cracked onto one side of the skillet with three links of sausage cooking on the other. And as Kate watches him cook her a breakfast, without even her asking, just him wanting to cook for her with a content smile on his ruggedly handsome face, she feels something she hasn't felt in a very long time. Looking down into her half-empty mug, she feels cared for. For whatever reason, she came to him last night, invaded his apartment, he said she kissed him she can only guess that she threw herself at him, she took up his bed, and he's still here cooking her breakfast after making her the best latte she's ever tasted, asking for nothing in return.

When it all hits her at once, watching out of the corner of her eye as he takes the spatula, sticks his tongue out between his lips and goes about turning over the eggs without breaking the yoke, her heart feels as if she owes it to him to pry open just a bit.

"It was my dad." She says to him, lifting her mug up to her lips again and taking another large sip.

Rick's content smirk feels heavy as he grabs a plate from the cupboard above his head. He pauses before responding as he takes her food off the plate and turns around to face her. "I wasn't going to ask." He says as he slides the plate over the counter in front of her. "Ketchup?"

She sends him a smile and lifts her hand. "No, but um..." she trails off and turns into the counter, "some toast maybe?"

"Sure," he smiles and turns back around, taking the bread from the top of the fridge.

As she waits, her heart pricks at her, prodding her to continue. "I know, Rick, but..." she shrugs, trailing off before giving up the dance and feeling the words fall from her throat. "My dad has a problem."

Rick looks up to her with a soft smirk and understanding eyes. "Alcohol, right?"

Feeling her eyes burn, she looks away from him and nods. "He's taking my mom's death really hard, but..." she pauses, looking down to her lap as she picks at the handle of her mug with her thumbnail. "Rick, what do you think of me becoming a cop?"

Rick looks over the counter to her with a soft expression, being stopped in the words by the toast popping out of the toaster. He reacts quickly by reaching over and taking the two slices out and juggling them over to her and tossing them down onto her plate, setting the butter down next to it. "I think it's great, why?"

"Come on, Rick, be honest." She says with sagging shoulders.

"I mean it, Kate." He says, shrugging his shoulders and coming to lean against the counter opposite of her. "I meant what I said before, not that many people could take something like that and turn it into something good. I think you becoming a cop, taking an oath to help your city, I think it shows that you're not willing to give in when you come up against an obstacle."

Kate can't help but stare into his eyes, the honesty and admiration making them shine.

"Most people when they come up against something like what you've been through, they use it as an excuse for their own weakness, they give into it. But you..." he shakes his head, "you take it and make it a strength. That takes a special person."

She feels her eyes burn as she listens to him. She's going down a path that not even her own father supports her going down. But this man, whom she met just mere weeks ago, is telling her it's not only a good thing, but that she's strong enough to succeed, and that it's proof she's special.

Kate gives him a nod before burying herself into the food and busying herself with eating. With just the right amount of salt and pepper, just the right amount of heat added to the sausage links, just the right amount of time spent cooking the yoke, the breakfast he prepared for her is perfect and after just a minute of her inhaling the food, she's finishing the last of her latte and sliding her mug across the counter.

"Well," She starts and moves out of the stool, "I guess I should probably get going."

Rick smiles at her again and takes her dishes from the counter. "You don't have to leave so quick on my account."

Kate gives him a thankful, nervous smile as she slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, slowly meandering her way around the peninsula. "Maybe you could," she nervously shrugs, feeling nervous to ask him, "make me another cup of coffee to go?"

He feels his stomach flutter when she asks and he quickly agrees by turning around and digging out a large white paper cup, a dark brown sleeve and a dark brown lid and quickly whips her up another skim latte with two more generous pumps of sugar-free vanilla and snaps the dark brown lid on top. "Here you are."

With a bright smile breaking her face apart momentarily, she takes the cup and lifts it up to him in a silent gesture of gratitude. "And uh..." she trails off, turning around and heading into the living room to grab her shoes, "thanks again for looking out for me." She says as he stays in the kitchen, leaned against the counter. "And for... for understanding." She tells him knowingly as she grabs her shoes. "It means a lot."

His eyes crinkle softly as he smiles at her. "We all need a friend sometimes, right?"

She smiles tightly at him and nods her head. "I guess so."

Rick lifts his hand to her, his heart tugging but feeling like he's made progress, with both himself and with her as he watches her swing her jacket over her shoulder and make for the door. Not wanting the memory of watching her leave, he turns and takes the portafilter out of the espresso machine.

But Kate feels a pair of cold tears leak out of her eyes and onto her cheeks as her hand grasps the cold metal of the doorknob. She's been so adamant about doing this alone, so adamant that she has no other choice, so adamant that she doesn't have any room for a guy like him. But just twenty minutes spent with him and she feels supported, she feels cared for, she feels stronger with him near. And now that she's telling herself to leave, that strength is draining, knowing that she'll be going out into a world rooting for her to fail.

With tears silently running down her cheeks, she looks over her shoulder to Rick, her heart tugging violently, her heart asking her a simple question.

Is it worth it to admit she was wrong?

* * *

 _A/N: How much do you hate me for this cliff hanger? :o_


	17. Chapter 17

He takes in a short huff through his nose and concentrates down on his cleaning out the used coffee grounds from the portafilter of his espresso machine. His heart feels heavy, and even heavier knowing it's because of him wanting more than just her gratitude for himself. He feels selfish. Looking out for her and being her friend should be a reward enough in and of itself.

His heart tugs into his stomach when he hears the door open, keeping his busy, distracted demeanor so fool her into thinking he's paying her leaving no mind. Sure, he had a fantasy or two played out in his head. But he knew when they got in there that it'd be wrong if they came to life. She's told him numerous times, made it abundantly clear, that she can't be with him. He has to respect that.

And when the door closes, he feels his eyes drift shut as he lets out a hard sigh, letting his tense shoulders deflate and sag, letting the metal rim of the portafilter fall down to the granite countertop with a loud clack. He reaches up and roughs his hand across his jaw, moving it up into his hair and looks down to the floor. He's glad to be in her life, but it's going to be Chinese water torture for a prisoner dying of thirst. Scratching the back of his head a few times, he turns around with another long, depressed sigh.

He blinks only once as he looks up and stops, seeing her fly around the corner of the island. It's not even another second before he feels her hands grasp his face and he feels her lips slam against his in a hard, unreserved kiss with her intensely soft lips pressed against his. His heart quickly fluttering out of his body, he staggers back into the counter, his hands clamoring behind him and knocking the portafilter from the espresso machine onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

The small of his back is being pressed into the edge of the counter as she pulls him down to her lips, giving him a passionate kiss that makes his spine raddle, his stomach coil, his lungs squeeze, and his heart explode. Kate mewls her palms against his jaw as she moves her lips against his to deepen the pressure, never breaking that first kiss. When her thumb pets a soft line across his cheekbone, Rick finally finds it in himself to reach over and grasp her sides, pulling her off of him.

Her lips pry off of him a loud, wet pluck and Rick, against every bodily function, opens his eyes, his lips feeling electrified. She has a blank, lidded expression painted on her face with two soft tracks coming from her eyes. "Kate, you still have alcohol in your system."

"I know what I'm doing." Her response comes immediately.

She gives him no warning before grasping his jaw in her hands again and foisting her lips onto him again, jumping into him this time, out of his grasp to leave his arms creating a circle around her body that's pressed against the solid mass of firm muscle. She lets her breath go as she takes in his lips, her voice wanting to rise up her throat. His lips are just so soft. The soft, sweet, satin of his lips seem to know how to fit perfectly against hers.

When his hands find her back and his lips finally seem to give her just a touch more pressure, Kate feels her knees buckle, her body unprepared for the intense wave of pleasure from a simple kiss.

Her hands start to move off his jaw and into the softness of his hair as her arms start to slowly snake around him, her front mashed against him while he leans back into the counter. He ends their second kiss after another very short ten seconds and he grasps her sides, gently urging her off as he leans back with a hazy look in his eyes.

"I think you and I may have _very_ different definitions of friendship." He says in a husky voice, making his chest vibrate pleasingly against hers while she uses only her forearms against his shoulders to keep herself upright as she leans into him.

"You think I kiss all my friends like this?" She asks him in the same low, husky voice, her breath short and panting as she squeezes his hair in between her fingers.

"I certainly hope not," he says with a raise of his brow just as his eyes look away from her, "although, I know some people willing to pay good money to see that. Well, your female friends. I'm not saying that _I'm_ one of those people."

Tired of waiting, Kate takes one hand out of his hair and moves it in front of her, softly moving the pads of her fingers over his lips.

"I mean, I do-" he stops when he feels her cover his mouth and he looks back down to her, seeing an intense emotion start to shimmer in her gorgeous hazel eyes.

Kate looks down to her fingers, feeling her eyes burn with tears again, with everything she has had to put herself through and with everything still to come. "Shhh..."

Silenced, his eyes travel quickly down to her lips as she removes her hand from his mouth and quickly presses back up to kiss him. She uses her lips to pull and suck at his while she snakes her arms around his neck. Rick decides then to let himself enjoy it, let himself enjoy her, revel in her, and engulfs her body in his arms. He hugs her to him and he hears her draw in a shaking breath when she releases him to nip at his lips again.

"Mmm..." he moans against her when she squeezes his neck to deepen their next kiss, "this is bad." He says against her lips.

That makes her pull back slightly, letting his lips go in another loud, wet, pluck, giving him a nervous pause. "Are you saying I'm a bad kisser?"

Rick's eyes widen in fear and his heart squeezes as his tongue wants to just reach out and take back what he said. " _No,_ you're fantastic." He corrects himself, finally getting to enjoy the feeling of her firm, toned, slender figure in his arms and leaned against him. "Uh..." he stammers as she gives him the same hazy, lidded gaze, "how am I?"

She lets out a long sigh that empties her lungs and makes her body fall deeper against his chest. "You're incredible."

"Are you sure that's not the alcohol talking? Because you kind of said the same thing last night when you ambushed me and I'm not saying I didn't enjoy _that_ kiss too. I mean, I didn't because you were drunk but I did because you were still a-"

"Rick?" She asks him.

"A good- uh- yes?" He stutters to a stop.

"Can you please stop talking? I'm kind of trying to kiss you here." He tells him in the same low, wanting, husky tone of voice.

Rick smashes his lips together in a thin line, gives her a nod, and moves his hand in front of him, zipping his lips together before giving her an 'okay' sign with his thumb and forefinger.

"Thank you," she says and quickly leans up again and captures him in another soft kiss.

She kisses him slowly, his lips branding themselves into the folds of her memory every time he responds. She runs her hand up into his hair, running it in between her fingers and squeezing the broad, tight curve of his shoulder with her other hand, her lips slowly and unhastely working against him. She holds their next kiss, drawing in a breath that tingles inside of her lungs, moving her hand out of his hair and down to his jaw again, petting his cheekbone again.

His arms loosen from around her and she is slowly let down back to support her own weight. She keeps her eyes closed as he nuzzles his nose against her for a moment. "I'm not very good at admitting when I'm wrong, Rick."

His heart tells him to be serious with her right now. Kissing her like that was quite literally a dream come true and the dream can't even hope to compare to what he actually experienced. But he knows it would be easy to screw it up by being the clown, by trying to get a laugh. But he saw the tracks of her tears.

"I would never ask you to, Kate." He says in a low voice as he runs his hand up the dip of her spine.

"But I know I have to." She tells him, pulling back and moving her arms to hug his neck, looking him in the eye. "I have nightmares."

His heart swells painfully and his throat closes when her voice sounds strained. So he does want he can and keeps petting a long line up and down her back, getting all the feeling he can of the tender form of her body in his arms.

"I'd be running down an alley toward my mother but something keeps pulling me back. And when I finally get to her, she just..." she shakes her head vigorously, her eyes turning rimmed with red. "She turns to ash just before I can get to her and she's begging me to save her." All Rick can respond with is to snake his arms further around her. "And now, I'm going down a path that no one wants me to go down." She tells him, moving her arms out from around his neck and folds them in between him and her, swatting at one of her tears.

Rick decides to stay silent. Anything he can think of in his mind will only make this about him. All he can do right now is do what he's been doing, just let her know that she doesn't have to be alone.

"Not even my own _father_ believes in me, Rick!" She quietly cries, looking up to him with an emotional ark in her brow. "I thought that at the very least, he would support me, but..." she trails off, shaking her head, "his own daughter, and he thinks I'm on some suicide mission for revenge." Kate looks down to his chest and flattens her hands against his pecs, sniffling softly. "You're the only person that really seems to believe in me right now. And whether it's just in your nature to believe in people or you're just really good at faking it, I want someone like that in my life."

Rick chuckles nervously as his spine wracks and his skin flushes from her petting his chest. "Well, my mother's the actor and the talent seems to skip a generation, so I'm not that good. And it's not really in my nature to believe in _every-_ one. I mean, I believe in some people and other people I kind of just-"

"Rick," she stops his rambling again.

Rick stops his babbling and gives her a nod and a nervous smile. "Sorry, you're getting me kind of flustered with the way your hands are on my chest."

Kate smiles softly while she looks down to the opening of his bright blue t-shirt. "I can't really help it."

"If you press hard enough, you might be able to tell how nervous I am with how fast my heart is beating right now."

She sticks her tongue out between her teeth as her smile grows. "Didn't really hinder your kissing ability."

"I'm going to remember you said that for the next time I get myself into trouble with you."

"Does that mean you're going to go looking for trouble to get into with me just so you can remind me that I said that?"

"I may have my pros and cons, Ms. Beckett, but look at it this way." He grins at her, lacing his fingers together against the small of her back. "Now we don't have to go through that awkward 'should we- shouldn't we' phase of our first date where I try and see if I get to kiss you."

"Yes, I agree that making out with you in your kitchen while you're still in your pajamas is far better." She sarcastically says to him with a soft smile making her tears vanish from her features.

"See? We're already finding things we have in common. We're going to make a great couple." He lifts his brow at her.

She pinches her brow. "And who said we were a couple all of the sudden?"

Rick's face falls. "So you _do_ kiss all of your friends like that."

"No," She sensually shakes her head, adding a roll of her shoulder to play to her cuteness, "all I'm saying is we need to have our first date first."

"Well, if you recall-"

"I swear," She lifts her finger to him, closing her eyes, "if you bring that up again-"

She's cut off by his lips quickly landing on hers, surprising her and making a loud yelp sound from the back of her throat. At the feeling of his incredible lips kissing her again, she melts back into him and after another few seconds, she feels him pull back with a soft chuckle. "Sorry, but I didn't think I'd need to use it that quickly."

Kate feels a soft smile shine its way onto her face as she slowly opens her eyes to him. "Same place? Tonight at seven?"

* * *

 _A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter, but I felt I made it worth your while. Keep them reviews roaring in and thanks for all the big ups from all my readers! :D_


	18. Chapter 18

She had a smile on her face, an all too revealing smile when she was going back to her apartment. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed how she couldn't get rid of it, couldn't grit her teeth and muster it away. Even if she tried, it would ram its way back onto her face, pulling her bottom lip back into the soft grasp of her teeth when her lips remembered him and her body remembered his chest and his body. She enjoyed giving in to her desires, not putting up the pointless effort to stomp them away like a boot to a house already engulfed in flames.

He's just such a great guy.

She hasn't felt that special and cared for since before her mother. He takes everything away, he makes it alright for her to forget about it for a while. He believes in her and supports her. He's respectful of her private nature, or as grown to be. He can be the sweetest, most caring and wise person when he knows the right time and can also be just the funniest, lighthearted person when he knows the right time. He can be smart and witty, but also make a fool of himself, maybe not by choice, to remind her that he's still human.

And he's _really_ cute.

The corner of her mouth quirks, telling her to smile again, but she squashes it as she pulls open the door to the police station. As she looks up, passing by uniformed officers, she feels her heart turn to hardened stone. She's going to be in that uniform someday. She's going to have one of those badges, a gun, a pair of handcuffs, all of it. All of these people took the oath that she's going to take when she's ready; to protect and serve. It was easy to tell herself that she would go in and show them all up, show them all how it's really done.

But now, all of it is just so intimidating.

She doesn't know why she has to come and pick him up. He called her apartment with his one phone call and he sounded really out of it. She had every intention of just leaving him in there after everything he said. But when she called the police station, the officer she spoke with convinced her to just come down and they'll get everything sorted out. But she's made her decision already.

Kate walks through the crowded lobby of the NYPD's Twelfth precinct, seeing other vagrants and prostitutes being talked to by the officers. "Excuse me?" She asks the officer passing by her. The officer turns to her with a bit of a smile, tips the bill of his patrol hat back and hooks his thumb around his belt. "I'm looking for an Officer Royce."

The officer turns and looks to a set of doors at the front end of the room, "Right through there."

Kate gives him a nervous smile and a nod, quickly moving past the other civilians, dirtied by the grime of the city, and goes through the doors, seeing a large layout of desks, bustling with activity. Phones are ringing, papers are rustling, chairs are being moved, doors are opening and closing, there's no stillness.

This is what she's in for.

Shaking her head to get back to the matter at hand, she nervously moves through the desks, searching the name placks until she spots one reading 'Mike Royce' in the center. "Officer Royce?" She asks the man sitting behind the desk, filling out paperwork.

The man looks up from his forms, spins his pen around on his finger, and gives Kate his attention. "Yes?"

"We spoke on the phone." She says in an upward inflection. "You picked up my father last night."

"Oh," the officer says in a scratchy voice, lined with a native accent of the city, "yeah, drunk and disorderly." The officer says and stands up from his desk, taking a paper from the plastic file rack on the edge of his desk.

"Drunk and..." she trails off, shaking her head and putting a hand to her forehead, letting out a hard sigh. "I'm not even going to bother asking." She vents. "Look," she starts, waving her hand out in the air and shifting her weight impatiently, "I'm sorry for his behavior, Officer."

The officer gives her a smile and waves the paper in his hand at her. "Don't worry about it, uh..." the officer trails off and looks away for a second. "Tell you what, we're gonna look the other way this time."

Kate knits her brow, a part of her frustrated at the officer as she wonders just what else they look the other way on. "But drunk and disorderly carries a $250 fine and up to fifteen days in county lock-up."

The officer stares at her with that same soft smile. "You uh... you know your stuff."

Kate shakes her head as she impatiently has to explain. "I majored in criminal justice at NYU."

"Well," the officer begins on a chuckle, "I can certainly appreciate that. But this really isn't that serious of a charge, ma'am." He tells her and waves the paper in his hand in the air before letting it fall back down to his side.

"My father broke the law and you're letting him go?" She asks incredulously.

The officer draws in a breath, but the sound of a file cabinet drawer being slammed on the other side of the room gets both of their attention. Kate looks over to where the sound came from and sees a man, early middle-aged, black, in a tan suit, looking directly at the officer with a set of cold eyes. His eyes look over to her for only a second before the man turns away from them and continues to the elevator.

"Sometimes," the officer begins again, pulling up his belt with his thumbs, "part of being a cop is knowing when to look the other way." He says, his eyes still following from where the man in the tan suit left. It's a moment before he turns back to look at her. "It was a first-time offense, just uh..." he shrugs with one side of his shoulders, "think about getting him some help."

All she does is nod, having gone down that dead-end road before. She keeps her eyes down to the floor and crosses her arms.

"I'll go get him for you." He says and quickly disappears to the other side of the room, coming back less than a minute later with her dad trailing behind him, in the same clothes he ran out the door with the night before, wrinkled and worn, and a dark layer of unkept scruff on his face.

Without another word, Kate only takes a cursory look at him before turning on her heel and quickly marching her way back out into the lobby, feeling him follow close behind her. She beelines through the vagrants again and makes it back outside, rushing back down the street and turning in the opposite direction of where he would go.

"What," he starts in a scratchy voice as he calls after her once they're outside, "no lecture?"

"No, Dad," she clearly when she spins back around to look him dead in the eye. "Because I'm done."

His brow knits as his eyes narrow, shuffling toward her a step. "What do you mean you're done, Katie?"

"I'm done, Dad." She states clearly, lifting her arms. "I've been trying for over three years to get you to quit and all you've ever done is scoff at me. I'm done trying, Dad."

"Katie, I'm-"

"You're _not..._ " she stops him, taking a step toward him, "fine, Dad! You won't go to rehab, you laugh at the idea of even sitting in on an AA meeting, you won't see a therapist. You get so drunk you almost bleed to death and that didn't change anything and _now,"_ she waves her arm to the police station they're in front of, "you get arrested and you still think you're fine? I'm done with you, Dad." She says and spins back around and starts to walk away.

"You can't just walk away from me, Katie. I'm your father." He argues.

Kate laughs darkly, stopping and slowly turning around. "Dad, that's awful funny coming from you considering you walked away from me a long time ago."

His brow knits together even more, his forehead creasing as he leans over to one side. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Dad, she may have been your wife, but she was my mother!" She says, her eyes burning. "I lost someone too. But you never even seemed to consider that. You don't even ask about me anymore. You don't think _I_ have nightmares? Hell, you can't even stay sober long enough to support your _own daughter_ in her life. If you had bothered to ask about my life at all, maybe then I'd think that you still cared about me. And if you'd bothered to ask about me, you'd know that I actually met someone, and he actually seems to believe in me, unlike my own father."

His expression turns blank but after a moment, the words hit him and he shakes his head. "Wait, like a boy? Who is he?"

Kate looks up into the sky and shakes her head, deciding not to make the effort. "I love you, Dad but..." she says and starts backward, "I'm done."

Without another word, she turns around and quickly starts down the street.

* * *

Kate eagerly sits in the booth lined with bright red leather, facing the door of the diner. This place has been open just a few weeks and it's already packed. They're open really late, so it may become a pitstop on her way home from a shift or two at the Haunt if she likes it. The burgers like pretty good, really big. But she's eyeing a milkshake on the table across the way from her and can feel her stomach wanting to steal it.

She taps the tips of her nails down against the table with a quick tempo, eyes glued onto the door. It's just after seven and she can't wait for him to arrive. She's eager to get their relationship started. With everything going on, she wants to get lost in something. And what he offers her is exactly what she needs. He supports her. He cares about her. He believes in her. And most usefully, he's very attracted to her.

She clears her throat and looks back down to the table for a moment when she sees the door open and sees him stroll through with a tight furrow in his brow and a slight pout in his lips that makes him look so suave and stoic. He's wearing a bright blue button-up shirt and a pinstriped sport coat, his hair perfectly styled as it always is. Her system tightens as she feels her stomach coil when he sees her from across the restaurant.

Rick feels a relieved smile fall onto his face when he sees her face, sitting in a small booth for two against the window. She meant it, she's actually here. As the day wore on, he feared it was some emotional snap she had this morning, that she'd reverse her decision again. But she's here... waiting for him. With a relieved sigh, he quickly makes his way through the restaurant and walks toward the booth.

Kate fights her smiles as an eager breath fills her lungs. She moves slowly to stand up as he approaches the booth, her legs feeling wobbly when her lips tingle at the memory of devouring him. His smile grows when she stands, clearly happy to see her.

She has her hair tied back into a small, low ponytail with a pair of bangs framing her face, her usual hairdo for work, in a more classy outfit of tan jeans that hug against her shapely legs, heeled boots, and a black turtle neck. Either with her hair messy, tangled, frizzy, and unkempt and her clothes wrinkled like she looked this morning as she kissed him, or now as she waits for him to get to the booth in a very well put together outfit, looking like the luckiest thing to happen to every guy in the diner just to have the privilege of seeing her with their own eyes, he knows her beauty is a curse on him.

"You made it," he says as he approaches her, lifting his hands up to her, unsure for a second as to what to do with them.

"Yeah," she replies on a bright, face-splitting smile as she takes a step forward and grabs the lapels of his sport coat, seeming to surprise him when she leans forward and presses a long kiss to his jaw, drawing in a whiff of his cologne and feeling her blood thicken when his hands land on her waist. She leans back, eyeing him while she soothes over his lapels.

Rick's breath is caught off guard by the look in her eye, shining and dancing so brightly as she looks up at him. He's never had anyone that genuinely happy to see him before. Maybe it's just the way her gorgeous hazel eyes always seem to dance under the right light. "So I take that as a sign we're on the same page then?" He asks her, nervously lifting his brow and having to force his hands to stay put instead of yanking her against him as they sit laying down against her hips.

Kate looks up at him with a lidded gaze and a soft smile as she lets her hands fall down his chest. "You're buying me dinner, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"That makes this a date, Rick." She says on a shrug. His smile is slow to grow on his face, taking a moment to see if she's real. After another moment, she nods her head over to the booth. "Why don't we sit," she starts by taking her hands off his chest reluctantly, "and uh... we'll just take it slow." She says and sits down.

Rick agrees silently for the time being and takes his place in the seat across from her. "Right, so..." he begins and watches as she reaches for a napkin, "how many kids do you want?" He asks nonchalantly.

Her hand jerks in midair, knocking over the salt shaker. Her heart lodged in her throat at his sudden question, she quickly stumbles for the salt and sets it back upright, seeing him grin almost devilishly. "Very funny." She states sarcastically.

After another couple of minutes of trading quips and off-handed jokes, the waitress finally comes by, seeing that Kate's date has finally arrived. Kate can see the clear and obvious hunger in the waitress' eye as she comes to the table and sees who her date for the evening is. Paying Kate no mind, the waitress' attention is directed to Rick and Rick alone.

But Rick is focused on not making himself look like an idiot as he reaches for a napkin.

"Welcome to Remy's," the waitress says in an overly happy tone as she sets two menus down onto their table. "Can I get you something to drink?" She seems to ask only Rick. Kate looks up to the waitress, whose eyes are glued onto her date, then gives her a once over. Her eyes stop at the midriff clearly showing at the bottom of her tight red shirt.

She feels a slight confidence mix together with her steaming annoyance. Her work shirt for the Haunt is pretty loose and she still gets tipped pretty well. The first time Rick met her, she'd just spilled drinks on him. A first impression that bad and here she is on a date with him. Nice try, she thinks to herself as she sees Rick look over the table to her.

"I'll stick with the gentlemanly act and say ladies first." He says with a soft smirk.

She gives him a thankful smile and looks up to the waitress, who's turning to face Kate with a pang of displeasure at having to admit to herself that Rick is here with someone that isn't her and lifts her pad up. "A chocolate shake and a glass of water."

Quickly scrawling out her order, the waitress turns back to Rick, her sultry smile flying back onto her face. "Water is fine," Rick says and lifts his hand to her, only glancing at the waitress before looking back over to Kate, wanting to drink her presence in just a bit longer.

The waitress gives him a quip and sashays off to the back of the diner and Kate waits for a moment before starting. "I thought I was the one on the date." She says with a deep roll of her eyes.

Rick noticed, but paid it no mind. That's why he likes Kate so much. She never did that with him. She was real with him. "I can be an ass hole to her when she comes back if you want." He says on a casual shrug.

Kate chuckles and lifts her hand. "Just making sure I knew where you stood."

Rick smiles, "I'm only interested in one waitress and she's not on shift tonight."

Kate fights a smile and grabs for the salt shaker she knocked over, spinning it around to give her hand something to do as she looks away. "You better be talking about me." She says and looks back up to him with a sultry smile of her own. "Because this is going to be one awkward date if you aren't."

"I'm saving the awkward moments for when I drop you off, thank you very much." He says and leans back into the booth.

She laughs softly just as the waitress comes back with a tray of their drinks. The waitress, clearly trying to be nicer to Rick than she is his date, sets down a glass of water in front of him with a smile, yet paying Kate no mind and almost clumsily sets down the shake and the other glass of water in front of her. The waitress then takes Rick's order of a bacon cheeseburger and then her order of the chicken sandwich and a side salad. The waitress walks off and Kate tries again.

"She's still trying, Rick."

"A valiant effort, I'm sure. But I've been down that road before." He says in an annoyed tone.

"Ah, yes," she nods widely, "you're little pity party at the Haunt."

"So, I was beating myself up a little bit." He shrugs as he defends himself.

"Well, why don't we start to make this a real date before you go on another one and get to know each other a little bit." She says and jabs her thick shake with the straw.

Rick eyes her after taking a drink of water. "You're saying that _after_ we make out in my kitchen?"

Unphased, Kate fires back, "And if it's going to happen again, I'd kind of like to know a little bit more." She says, looking at him with soft eyes. "Come on, we'll start with something simple, like..." she pauses to think, "like family. That's a start."

Rick smiles and leans back into the booth. "Single mother, so very little beyond just her."

Kate's brow knits, "Divorced?"

Rick takes his glass, something clenching his heart as she asks him this line of questioning so casually. Kyra never bothered. "Product of a one night stand, so uh..." he says heavily, "so no."

"O-" she cuts herself off, suddenly feeling the weight of the answer he gave her, "oh." She doesn't really know how to continue. She was wondering if him beating himself up over his escapade at that fundraiser was coming from a deeper place. She feels the question swirl around in her mind, asking him if he even knows who his father is. But her heart tells her to drop it. "Was your mother always on Broadway?" She finally asks after a tense moment.

Rick forces a smile and nods, looking down to his glass. "Mmhmm."

Kate's heart feels heavy. It's pretty easy for her to fill in the blanks without asking him to do it for her. "Must have been rough."

Playing it off, he offers her a meager shrug. "Killed a lot of time at the library. I don't think about it too much." Kate accepts his answer for what it is, a way to not get too deep into it now. "What about you?"

"My mom and dad were both lawyers."

"Ah," he says with a smile, "is that why you're so good at arguing with me?"

Kate smiles, "Well, my mom made partner a few years before she died."

"Doesn't exactly sound like you attended the school of hard knocks."

She shrugs, "In case you were wondering why I don't seem impressed by the wealth and the fame."

"I never thought you were, Kate." He says softly.

"I was upper-middle class, Rick." She replies on a chuckle. "I grew up with a trust fund before I..." she trails off, scooting back into the booth, "quietly gave it back to my dad after paying off my student loans."

Rick nods, "How is he, by the way?" He asks her, getting her attention with a pair of hard eyes staring back at him. "I mean, I know you told me about what's going on this morning. I guess I was just wondering i-if..." Rick gets the message that it's a difficult subject to broach by the look and quickly decides to drop it, "you know what? Forget I mentioned it." He says with a wave of his hand.

Kate gives him a thankful smile. "A little heavy for a first date?"

"Hey, you're the one who asked about my childhood spent in the care of boarding schools and the first stagehand she could get ahold of." He replies offhandedly.

"And you're the one who asked about my cutting ties with my dad this afternoon because he can't get his life straight enough to support his own daughter." She replies back just as offhandedly as he did.

That makes his smile turn heavy and it slowly falls from his features. He can't assume she hasn't tried. But he knows what he'd want in a father. Even if his father did know he even existed, he doesn't care enough to try. He can at least understand not bothering with someone who doesn't care enough to try. But underneath it all, he can't help but feel that if he did by some grace of the universe have a father, a part of him would still fight tooth and nail for to be okay.

* * *

"I've got to say," Rick starts the conversation up again as they climb out of the cab in front of her stoop, "this wasn't that bad for a first date." He says casually as he meets her on the sidewalk.

"Other than the waitress trying to spill your drink on me, yeah, not bad at all." She says with another eye roll.

"We could always try for a second date to make up for it." He tries as they slowly start to climb the stone steps of her stoop. "Maybe something a little more intimate, that way the only person you have to worry about spilling anything on is me."

Kate chuckles softly as she reaches the top step. "Well, I do seem to have a knack for that." She answers, her heart fluttering at his use of the word intimate. She's had a great time tonight. The best night she's had in a long time. "What did you have in mind?" She shrugs, eagerly wringing her hands together as she turns to face him while he climbs the last step and stands in front of her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

With a shrug, he smiles at her. "Why don't I bring some take-out over one night this week? We can stay in and rent a movie."

Her body is running it through her veins now. The feeling of her burying into the cove of his side, his arm draped safely around her, falling asleep on his chest, trading witty banter over a cheesy horror film and picking out of each other's take-out containers. She sends him a fighting smile while her heart flutters wildly in her chest. "I'd like that."

Rick feels his stomach flop excitedly as she agrees and he picks a night out of thin air. "Does Wednesday night work?"

All she can reply with is a tight nod, her heart still fluttering. "Yeah," she says in barely a whisper.

It's then that he feels his stomach knot tightly and his legs turn to jelly. His mouth quickly dries up as he sees her beautiful dancing eyes catch sight of his lips. He feels her shift her weight forward as his hands reach out for her. The air between them seems to crackle with want and electricity.

Her blood thickening again and her heart pounding, her hands reach out in front of her as she takes a weakened step forward to step into him, placing her hands gently onto his chest and lets her eyes drift closed and lean up to him, the world falling away. This is why she wants to be with him. When it's just them, the way it is now, the world falls away. She reaches out to him with her lips, gently grazing them across his in a soft, cautious kiss.

His hands find her hips when his lips fall from hers with a soft pull and his spine finally untenses.

But she can't let him go yet.

She grabs the seam of his shirt with one hand and pulls at him hard, taking his lips back in a firm kiss as they both draw in a long breath, reveling in the touch of the other. Her heart explodes inside of her chest, pulling herself up to him with the hand fisting his shirt and moving her other arm around his shoulders, hoisting herself into the grasp of his hands on her hips. He returns her slow passion with matched fervor and pulls her hips against him, soon moving his arms around her waist as she ends the kiss with a loud pluck.

"Is this taking it slow?" He asks her, his lips grazing against her as they hold one another, unwilling to let go.

She smiles brightly, not having the strength to fight it for him, enjoying the feeling of smiling against his lips, and leans back a bit. "Can I ask you something, Rick?"

He nuzzles her softly before pulling back himself, "Of course."

She pets his chest before moving her hand across his jaw and around his shoulders to match her other arm. "Just before I left you at the cemetery, you were saying something." She feels him stiffen in her arms as she looks down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. "What was it?"

Rick nods in a small motion and looks down to her lips, knowing exactly what she's talking about. "I'm not looking to be the guy to solve all of your problems for you, Kate." He tells her in a soft, tender, caring voice as he looks back into her eyes. "I just don't think you should have to go through it alone."

Her heart folds in on itself as his words hit her. Solve her problems or not, she doesn't want to go through it alone anymore. She wants to spend what time she can with him. After a moment of letting his words fall over her, she leans forward, nuzzling his nose as he did with her's, and reaches out with her lips to place a caring, chaste kiss on his lips.

He lets her lean back after she kisses him again, taking all of his strength with her, and feels her hands slide down his chest. "Call me tomorrow?"

He nods and pets the curves of her hips with his thumbs. "Tomorrow."

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry about the delay. Interwebz kinda exploded this week. I hope a long chapter makes up for it. Let me know and keep dem reviews coming. :)_


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